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I 


I 


SWITZERLAND 


IN  SUNSHINE 


AND  SNOW  . 


FAMOUS  CASTLES  AND  PALACES  OF  ITALY. 

By  E.  B.  d'Auvergne.     Illustrated.     16s.  net. 

HEROINES  OF  GENOA. 

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THE     AEROPLANE-PAST,     PRESENT     AND 
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•   »  a  •  •    • 


t  let         fjf         »■  t      t    r  t  <     t         <         * 


c 


SWITZERLAND 


IN  SUNSHINE  AND  SNOW 


By 

EDMUND  B.  D'AUVERGNE 

AUTHOR   OF 

"THE  ENGLISH  CASTLES,"   "FAMOUS  CASTLES  AND  PALACES 

OF   ITALY,"   ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED    WITH  THIRTY-SIX  PLATES 
IN  COLOUR  AND  HALF-TONE 


LONDON 
T.    WERNER    LAURIE 

CLIFFORD'S    INN 


I 


>  •  ■         » 


•  •   •    « 

•  .    .    •    • 


I 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Federal  Capital i 

Neuchatel 20 

The  Pays  de  Vaud 42 

Chillon       . 61 

In  Arcadia         . 73 

The  Valais 83 

The  Dogs  of  St  Bernard 100 

The  Guides 106 

An  Old  Swiss  Watering-Place         .        .        .        ,112 
Lucerne,  To-Day  and  Long  Ago      .        .        .        .127 

The  Lion  of  Lucerne 146 

Little  Journeys  from  Lucerne       .        .        .        .164 

In  the  Land  of  Tell 188^ 

Einsiedeln 204 

The  Bernese  Oberland 220 

Canton  Glarus 241 

The  Lowlands  of  Switzerland        ....  256 

The  Protestant  Rome      .   ' 269 

Winter  in  the  Alps 276 

Winter  Sports 293 

V 


263030 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  Jungfrau 

Berne 

The  Bagpiper  Fountain,  Berne 

The  Bruggler  Fountain,  Berne 

Neuchatel 

Lausanne 

Vevey  .... 

Gathering  Narcissus  at  Montreux 

Chillon  {Colour) 

Gruyeres 

Sign     .... 

Marjelen  See 

The  Bonspiel  Wengen 

Baden  in  Aargau 

Wasserthurm,  Lucerne 

Old  Bridge,  Lucerne 

Lake  of  Lucerne 

The  Nebelmeer,  Rigi 

View  from  Summit  of  the  Rigi 

At  St  Beatenberg    . 

The  Rink,  Kandersteg 


Frontispiece 

To  face 

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JX               .        „ 

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188 

200 

Vll 


List  of  Illustrations 

The  Lutschine 

The  Lutschine 

Lake  of  Thun 

Kandersteg    . 

Lake  of  Wallenstadt 

Lenthal  (Glarus)     . 

Soleure 

Zurich 

Ile  de  Salagnon  {Colour) 

MiJRREN 

Pontresina  {Colour)  . 
Davos 
Bobsleighing  . 

St  Beatenberg 
Ski-Jumping    . 


To  face 

page 

212 

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226 

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l> 

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300 

Note. — The  Illustrations  marked  Wehrli  are  from  pictures  supplied  by 
Messrs  Wehrli  A. — G  of  Kilchberg-Zurich.l  Those  by  Mr  J.  W.  McLennan 
are  inserted  by  kind  permission  of  "Continental  Travel  Ltd." 


VIU 


The   Federal  Capital 

One,  we  observe  with  pleasure,  has  sHpped  out 
and  is  making  off  quietly ;  but  another  is  being 
conveyed  with  obvious  gusto  and  deliberation 
by  the  ogre  into  his  capacious  mouth — the  next 
instant  you  realise  that  the  tender  limbs  will  be 
cracked  between  his  opening  jaws.  The  whole 
thing  is  very  realistically  done.  Horrible  cannibal, 
who  are  you — some  hated  baron  of  the  Ober- 
land  ?  No,  the  features  are  Jewish,  and  the 
group  evidently  relates  to  the  legends  circulated 
in  the  sixteenth  century  about  child  sacrifices 
by  the  Hebrews. 

A  monument  more  pleasing  to  the  Chosen 
People  should  be  the  Samson  Fountain,  which, 
like  all  these  compositions,  is  full  of  vigour. 
The  pleasant-faced  giant  is  wrenching  open  the 
jaws  of  a  lion  which  gapes  as  with  astonishment. 
Samson  seems  about  to  extract  a  tooth.  Then 
there  is  the  fountain  bearing  the  statue  of  the 
gentle  dame  Seller,  the  founder  of  the  Insel 
Hospital,  and  the  fine  Renaissance  figure  of  Jus- 
tice on  the  Gerechtigkeits  brunnen.  This  dates 
from  1543.  Younger  by  two  years  is  the  Archer 
Fountain,  representing  the  gaily-uniformed 
soldier  of  the  period.  He  is  accompanied  by 
a  httle  bear  as  his  esquire.  Bears !  Berne 
delights  to  honour  them  !  They  meet  your  eye 
at  every  turn.  Here  is  Bruin  again,  very  fine  and 
martial,  armed  cap-a-pie  and  upholding  a  banner, 
i  He  marches  in  procession,  you  will  have  observed, 

ZI 


Switzerland 

round  the  column  of  the  KindHfresser ;  he  up- 
holds each  comer  of  the  monument  to  the  victor 
of  Laufen  ;  you  will  see  him  on  the  cathedral 
terrace  acting  as  page  to  the  bronze  effigy  of 
Berchtold  of  Zahringen.  Feeling  that  she  has 
not  done  enough  to  honour  him,  Berne  has 
given  him  a  new  fountain  all  to  himself  in  the 
Barenplatz.  There,  in  white  marble,  bears  of  all 
sorts  and  sizes  clamber  and  prowl  round  the  apex 
of  a  column  on  which  triumphantly  stands  the 
head  bear,  evidently  king  of  the  castle. 

Everybody,  I  take  it,  loves  bears,  and  I  for 
one  can  understand  why  the  Bernese  never  tire 
of  them.  Since  1400  or  thereabouts  a  number 
of  these  jolly  animals  have  been  maintained  at 
the  city's  expense,  just  as  the  Romans  have 
kept  wolves  and  as  we  ought  to  keep  lions.  The 
French  inhumanly  carried  off  these  wards  of 
Berne,  and  one  of  them,  Martin,  unpatriotically 
condescended  to  become  the  pet  of  the  Parisians. 
But  in  18 15  the  republic  recovered  its  bears, 
and  there  you  can  see  their  descendants  to  this 
day,  very  properly  housed  in  a  commodious  den 
just  across  the  Nydeckbriicke.  They  are  very 
fine  beasts,  and  do  credit  to  their  masters  and 
to  the  liberality  of  the  tourists,  who  never  tire 
of  bombarding  them  with  bread  and  carrots. 
The  bears  do  not  tire  of  being  bombarded  either. 
At  times  they  will  cHmb  a  pole  for  their  admirers' 

entertainment,  but  they  usually  receive  favours 

12 


The  Federal  Capital 

prone  on  their  broad,  shaggy  backs.  They  are 
good-tempered  enough,  but  will  not  submit  to 
insult.  A  good  many  years  ago  an  English 
tourist,  after  copious  potations  of  beer,  thought 
it  would  be  excellent  fun  to  go  down  into  the  pit 
one  night  and  give  the  oldest  bear  a  scare. 
Bruin  growled  when  disturbed  in  his  sleep,  but 
retired  farther  into  his  den.  There  the  English- 
man was  rash  enough  to  follow  him,  and  paid  for 
his  temerity  with  his  life.  It  is  only  under  such 
provocation  that  our  friend  the  bear  loses  his 
naturally  placid  temper,  which  is  usually  main- 
tained on  a  vegetarian  diet.  These  animals  are 
still  to  be  found  wild  in  some  of  the  mountain 
chains  of  eastern  Switzerland,  and  even  there 
they  are  barbarously  persecuted.  They  are 
handsome,  well-meaning  brutes,  and  ask  only 
to  be  let  alone.  The  human  race  is  not  so 
interesting  or  amiable  that  we  can  afford  to  do 
without  our  four-footed  brothers. 

A  counter-distraction  to  the  bear  pit  is  pro- 
vided by  the  Clock  Tower  in  the  Kramgasse,  now 
in  the  heart  of  the  city,  but  in  Berchtold's  time 
its  western  hmit.  It  contains  a  clock  built  in 
1527  and  restored  about  sixty  years  later. 
Three  minutes  before  each  hour  a  wooden  cock 
crows  and  flaps  his  wings.  The  visitor's  atten- 
tion having  been  thus  arrested,  a  procession  of 
bears  armed  with  cross-bows  issues  from  the 
interior  of  the  clock  and  marches  round  the  figure 

13 


Switzerland 

of  old  Father  Time.  The  rooster  again  crows ; 
the  hour  is  struck  by  a  jester  with  cap  and  bells. 
Father  Time  raises  his  sceptre  and  beats  time, 
turns  his  hour-glass,  and  opens  his  mouth, 
while  a  bear  bows  before  him  ;  the  cock  crows 
for  the  third  time  ;  and  the  exhibition  is  over 
for  another  hour.  \\Tio  would  csLrry  a  watch 
when  the  time  of  day  is  impressed  upon  him  by 
such  agreeable  devices  ? 

It  will  have  been  seen  that  there  is  much  of 
the  musical-box,  cuckoo-clock  character  about 
the  capital  of  S\\itzerland,  a  sur\ival  of  the 
quaint,  childhke  humour  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
But  the  grimmer  humour  of  those  da}'s  may 
be  tasted  in  the  wonderful  Historical  Museum, 
with  its  remarkable  collection  of  headsman's 
axes,  each  of  which  has  chopped  off  a  hundred 
heads,  and  the  seven  hundred  and  fifty  halters 
which  Charles  the  Bold  had  thoughtfully  pro- 
vided for  the  Swiss.  These  fell  into  the  hands 
of  his  intended  victims  at  ^lorat  or  Grandson, 
and  are  now  proudly  displayed  among  the 
banners,  swords,  lances  and  other  trophies  of 
those  glorious  fields.  Seven  hundred  and  fift}^ 
halters  !  W^y  not  seven  hundred  or  eight 
hundred  ?  One  marvels  at  such  precision  in 
such  a  matter.  Probably  the  duke  decided 
that  fifteen  hundred  Swiss  would  be  a  very 
proper  holocaust,  and  economically  allowed  one 
halter  for  two  men. 

14 


u      a      »    >        >      > 


ijv 


'     ,     >      »         5  1 

»    1  a    '  » 


The  Briiggler  Fountain,  Berne. 


The  Federal  Capital 

The  piety  of  the  hardy,  haughty  Bernese  is 
1  represented  by  the  Miinster,  begun  in  1421, 
and  finished  in  1590.  It  is  largely  the  work  of 
one  of  the  architects  of  Strassburg  Cathedral, 
and  certainly  reminds  one  of  that  famous  fane. 
On  the  portal  is  illustrated  the  legend  of  the 
Wise  and  Foolish  Virgins.  It  does  not  seem 
to  have  been  taken  to  heart  by  the  Protestants, 
who  have  swept  the  inside  of  this  glorious  church 
bare  of  all  adornment  and  left  no  lamps  shining 
there. 

The  minster  stands  high  and  nobly  above  the 
Aar,  here  spanned  by  the  beautiful  Kirchenfeld 
bridge.  Far  below  the  river  foams  and  eddies 
round  rocks  and  the  stout  knees  of  washerwomen. 
The  steep  slopes  are  largely  overgrown  with 
gardens  and  plantations,  and  are  less  bare  than 
when  the  startled  horse  of  Weinzapfii  jumped 
the  parapet  and  was  dashed  to  pieces  below, 
leaving  his  rider  sprawling  but  unhurt  to  live 
for  half-a-century  longer. 

The  dignity  of  Berne  is  expressed  in  the 
white  Federal  Palace — Curia  Confoederationis 
Helveticae,  as  the  lettering  over  the  fa9ade 
describes  it — which  rises  so  proudly  above  the 
Aar  and  seems  to  have  caught  some  of  the 
white  majesty  of  the  mountains  opposite.  Here 
since  1848  the  Government  of  the  republic  has 
at  last  found  a  permanent  habitation,  after 
having  been  shifted  from  Baden  to  Frauenfeld, 

15 


Switzerland 

from  Zurich  to  Lucerne,  and  back  again  so  often] 
in   the   course   of   ages.     Zurich   surpasses   all] 
other  Swiss  towns  in  population  and  wealth,! 
Geneva  claims  a  vague  intellectual  superiority, 
but  no  one  need  dispute  with  Berne  her  political 
supremacy.     Certainly  it  has  brought  her  noj 
very  substantial  increase  in  wealth  or  power.] 
The  representatives  of  the  cantons  come  here 
to   transact  their  political  business  as  expedi- 
tiously as  possible,  and,  I  should  judge,  with  as 
little  personal  expenditure.     You  may  see  groups 
of   them   lunching    or   dining   at    the  railway! 
buffet,  looking,  some  of  them,  as  if  they  had! 
come  straight  from  the  plough.     I  doubt  if  the! 
institution  of  tea  on  the  terrace  is  known  to. 
them  ;  they  would  be  shocked  if  their  house  of' 
assembly  were  referred  to  as  the  finest  or  the 
worst  club  in  Europe.     Republican  simplicity 
reigns  at  Berne,  if  nowhere  else  in  the  world. 
Visiting  the  administrative  buildings  attached 
to  the   parliament   house  I   noticed   the  word 
"  Bundesprasident "    (President    of    the    Con- 
federation) inscribed  over  an  inconspicuous  door, 
just  as  you  might  see  the  word  "  Cashier  "  or 
"  District  Registrar."     I   called  to   mind  how 
an  important  English  railway  contractor  once 
knocked  at  this  door  and  was  answered  by  a 
man  in  shirt  sleeves,  whom  he  took  to  be  a  clerk. 
It  was  the  President  himself.     In  the  hall  of 
the  Council  of  State  I  sat  in  this  functionary's 

i6 


The  Federal  Capital 

chair,  and,  so  far  from  rebuking  my  presumption, 
the  attendant  poHtely  inquired  if  I  was  fatigued  ! 
A  sitting  of  the  Swiss  Parhament  I  have  not 
assisted  at.  From  the  arrangement  of  the 
Chamber  and  the  character  of  the  representa- 
tives, I  should  imagine  its  proceedings  to  be 
dignified  and  business-hke.  Here  men  come  to 
make  laws  for  the  betterment  of  their  country, 
not  to  discuss  mediaeval  precedents  and  play  the 
party  game.  I  wonder  whether  the  art  of 
blocking  bills  is  understood  at  Berne,  and  if 
they  know  how  to  shelve  measures  passed  by  a 
majority  of  two-thirds  of  the  House.  But  here, 
of  course,  the  Cabinet  is  appointed  by  the  re- 
presentatives themselves  and  has  to  respect 
their  wishes. 

The  importance  of  this  pretty  little  city  by 
the  Aar  is  more  than  national.  Close  to  the 
railway  station  I  noticed  a  plate  beside  an  in- 
conspicuous door  bearing  the  words,  "  Union 
postale  universelle."  The  Swiss  capital  is  also 
the  world's  postal  headquarters.  Here  are 
settled  the  colossal  accounts  which  the  nations 
run  up  against  each  other  for  money  orders, 
telegraph  charges,  and  the  transport  of  parcels. 
The  work  in  this  international  clearing  house 
must  be  tremendous.  A  German  waiter  sends 
five  shillings  from  a  post-office  in  Soho  to  his 
mother  in  the  Harz  mountains,  and  sooner  or 

later  England  and  Germany  must  square  ac- 
B  17 


Switzerland 

counts  here.  Not  less  complicated  must  be  the 
transactions  disentangled  at  the  International 
Railway  Clearing  House  not  far  away.  It  is 
so  easy  a  matter  to  book  yourself  or  a  bale  of 
goods  from  Lisbon  to  Odessa.  You  never  ask 
yourself  over  whose  lines  you  are  travelling. 
You  paid  your  good  money  at  Lisbon,  and  are 
free  from  further  liability.  And  the  price  of 
your  ticket  must  be  divided  up  by  a  clerk  at 
Berne  between  a  score  of  different  companies 
and  governments  in  strict  proportion  to  the 
distance  you  have  travelled  on  the  lines  of  each. 
See  how  these  nations  treat  one  another  ! — even 
when  they  are  at  enmity,  for  here  is  the  head- 
quarters of  the  society  of  the  Red  Cross,  whose 
emblem  will  be  respected  when  all  other  treaties 
and  conventions  have  been  torn  to  shreds. 

Berne  stands  for  international  comity,  for 
the  triumph  of  law  and  humanity  above  petty 
racial  rivalries.  Herself  the  keeper  of  a  pact 
between  three  widely  distinct  peoples,  she 
willingly  acts  as  umpire  and  broker  for  the  rest 
of  the  world.  Her  calm,  practical  adjustment  of 
such  vast  European  interests  points  the  way  to 
the  unification  of  the  nations.  Since  a  world's 
postal  union  is  possible,  why  not  a  world's 
customs  union  ?  Since  the  nations  have 
pledged  themselves  to  respect  the  Red  Cross 
flag,  why  not  pledge  themselves  to  respect  aU 
flags  and  to  refer  their  differences,  as  they  refer 

i8 


The  Federal  Capital 

their  railway  disputes,  to  Berne  or  to  The  Hague  ? 
Since  German  Cathohcs,  French  Protestants,  and 
Itahan  Free-thinkers  can  submit  to  one  law 
because  it  is  just,  do  not  politicians  and  jour- 
nalists He  when  they  dismiss  the  United  States 
of  Europe  as  an  empty  dream  ? 


19 


NEUCHATEL 

Neuchatel  is  a  dull  place  with  an  interesting 
history.  As  you  first  see  it  from  the  train, 
thundering  and  whistling  among  the  gorges 
of  the  Jura,  it  looks  picturesque  enough,  seated 
by  its  broad  expanse  of  lake.  It  forms  indeed 
one  of  the  finest  approaches  to  Switzerland  from 
the  west.  I  remember  that  the  unexpected 
beauty  of  the  scene  very  keenly  affected  some 
of  my  fellow-passengers.  There  were  a  young 
Irish  couple,  for  instance,  who  were  so  fond  of 
each  other  that  an  elderly  English  lady  doubted 
if  they  could  be  lawfully  married.  When  they 
caught  sight  of  the  lake  they  clutched  each 
other's  hands,  and  the  man,  in  a  rich,  soft  accent, 
murmured  something  to  the  girl  about  home 
and  the  Bay  of  Dublin.  Not  wishing  to  disturb 
a  love  scene,  I  retreated  into  the  next  coach. 
In  the  little  connecting  passage  which  always 
reminds  me  of  the  pull-out  part  of  a  camera  I 
nearly  fell  over  a  countryman  in  very  loose 
flannels,  stretched  out  at  full  length.  I  asked 
if  he  were  train-sick.  He  gasped  :  "  Leave  me 
alone  !  This  beauty  overpowers  me."  I  per- 
ceived that  he  was  an  advanced  person,  and 

20 


'  .   '  ;> 


.■>  ■>  )  .> 


SI 

o 


o 

a. 


Neuchatel 

was  sure  that  he  wore  Jaeger  underclothing. 
I  left  him  alone,  and  hope  he  was  not  over- 
powered by  the  conductor,  a  man  who,  like  Mr 
Kipps,  would  have  sternly  warned  him,  "  No 
art !  " 

I  wonder  how  this  comparatively  new  type 
squares  with  the  Continental  conception  of  an 
Englishman,  which  remains  pretty  much  Caran 
d' Ache's.  The  Jaegerish  Briton  is  a  creature 
of  nomadic  habits,  and  has,  moreover,  a  fancy  for 
straying  off  the  beaten  track,  where  the  old 
convention  lingers  longest.  The  tradition  must 
be  rudely  disturbed  by  these  apparitions  in 
sandals,  jibbehs,  art  serges,  and  open  collars. 
In  certain  quarters  of  Switzerland  and  Italy, 
to  which  friends  of  mine  have  penetrated,  I 
expect  to  find  John  Bull  represented  by  local 
art  as  a  rather  weedy  Oscar  Wilde  chewing  a 
young  carrot. 

Had  my  travelling  companions  broken  their 
journey  at  Neuchatel,  as  I  did,  their  raptures 
would  soon  have  moderated.  The  town  is  very 
yellow,  and,  as  the  French  so  expressively  put 
y  it,  morne.  The  streets  are  broad  and  tree- 
lined,  and  very  clean  and  quiet.  There  is,  of 
course,  an  efficient  service  of  electric  tramways ; 
the  station  stands  very  high  above  the  lake, 
which  is  rather  unfortunate,  as  it  might  other- 
wise impart  a  little  animation  to  the  town. 

21 


Switzerland 

There  is  a  jardin  Anglais  provided  for  us 
elegant  islanders,  and  very  neat,  clean-swept 
quays.  There  is  nothing  else  to  do  in  Neuchatel 
but  stroll  up  and  down  these,  and  inquire  every 
hour  or  two  if  there  are  any  letters  for  you  at  the 
post-office.  There  are  one  or  two  enormous 
hotels  where  you  are  set  down  all  by  yourself 
at  a  small  table  in  the  middle  of  the  salle  a 
manger,  and  sit  hoping  against  hope  for  the 
appearance  of  some  other  traveller.  If  you 
stayed  long  enough,  I  have  no  doubt  another 
would  in  due  course  appear ;  but  no  one  does 
stay  long  enough. 

I  stopped  at  this  melancholy  place  because  a 
German  friend  told  me  that  he  had  had  the  time 
of  his  life  there.  He  was  a  very  young  and  very 
German  German  in  those  far-off  times  (away 
back  in  the  nineties),  and  was  delighted  to 
strum  a  guitar  beneath  the  windows  of  one  of 
the  numerous  girls'  pensionnats  or  to  go  home 
from  the  cafe  with  other  desperadoes  singing 
part-songs  and  glees.  I  fear  that  he  has  since 
forgotten  these  simple  joys,  as  young  Germans 
do  when  they  grow  into  prosperous  London 
merchants  and  go  down  to  the  sea  in  motor 
cars  and  traffic  in  rubber  and  jungles. 

The  pensionnats,  of  which  my  now  opulent 
friend  has  such  tender  recollections,  are  very 
numerous  at  Neuchatel.     The  inhabitants  pride 

22 


Neuchatel 

themselves  on  their  excellent  French,  and  English 
girls  are  sent  here  in  great  numbers  to  acquire  it. 
It  is  for  their  special  benefit,  I  suppose,  that  the 
benevolent  M.  Suchard  has  established  his 
chocolate  manufactory  in  the  suburbs  of  the 
town.  These  delightful  Httle  ladies  collect  pic- 
ture postcards  of  Phyllis  Dare,  and  all  hope  to 
be  like  her  some  day.  Their  coming  and  going 
must  keep  the  youth  of  Neuchatel  in  a  perpetual 
agony  of  hopes  and  fears,  and  cause  the  native 
young  ladies  (who  are  rather  homely)  ecstasies 
of  jealousy.  I  remember  crossing  the  lake,  once 
upon  a  time,  from  Morat  to  Neuchatel  with  a 
party  of  these  schoolgirls,  in  charge,  alas  !  of 
their  excellent  mistress.  They  were  of  various 
nationaUties,  but  I  noticed  that  two  of  them — 
I  am  glad  to  say  the  prettiest — had  little  enamel 
Union  Jacks  pinned  to  their  blouses.  In  a  coun- 
try like  Switzerland,  where  people  from  all  parts 
of  the  world  meet  at  hotels  or  on  steamers  and 
trains,  it  seems  to  me  rather  a  good  plan  to 
advertise  one's  nationality  in  this  way — unless, 
indeed,  you  feel  your  own  countr5nTien  to  be 
bores,  as  English  people  affect  to  do.  These 
schoolgirls,  so  far  from  being  bores,  beguiled 
the  three  hours'  journey  by  singing  in  chorus, 
and  very  well  their  high,  shrill,  rather  thin 
voices  sounded  over  the  silvery  waters  of  the 
placid  lake.     The  evening  hour,   the  swish  of 

23 


Switzerland 

the  water,  the  vision  of  the  Alps,  and  these 
famihar  songs,  produced  in  me  those  emotions 
which  are  so  deHcately  rendered  by  Mr  Chfton 
Bingham.  Home-sickness,  I  have  observed,  is 
always  acutest  at  what  cyclists  term  lighting- 
up  time.  I  suppose  this  is  a  faint  recrudescence 
of  the  instinct  of  primitive  man  to  seek  shelter 
when  darkness  approached.  You  don't  feel 
it  when  it  is  really  night.  A  man  is  as  little 
likely  to  be  home-sick  at  twelve  midnight  as  at 
twelve  noon.  English  travellers  subject  to  at- 
tacks of  this  disagreeable  sensation  ward  it  off 
by  a  hearty  tea. 

Having  nothing  much  to  do  at  present, 
Neuchatel  thinks  and  writes  a  good  deal  about 
its  past.  Most  New  Castles  are  very  old,  and 
this  one  is  rather  older  than  the  New  Forest. 
There  was  a  count  at  Neuchatel  in  1290,  when 
he  made  an  alliance  with  Fribourg.  Later  on 
he  allied  himself  with  Berne.  The  first  brunt 
of  Charles  the  Bold's  ire  fell  on  the  county  in 
1476.  Twenty  miles  north  along  the  shore  of 
the  lake  is  the  little  town  of  Grandson,  with  a 
fine  old  castle,  with  the  warm,  red-peaked  roofs 
which  once  surmounted  our  English  strongholds. 
The  Burgundians  took  this  castle,  and  the  Swiss 
confederates,  with  whom  marched  a  body  of 
Neuchatelois,  encamped  on  the  heights  to  the 

north-east.     The   duke   could   not   coax   them 

24 


Neuchatel 

down,  so  he  marched  out  of  the  town  and 
feigned  a  retreat.  But  when  the  horns  of  Uri 
and  Lucerne  were  sounded  close  at  hand,  the 
retreat  became  a  real  one,  and  presently  a  rout, 
in  which  the  Swiss  captured  enormous  booty. 
In  fact  this  victory,  says  a  Swiss  historian,  was 
the  richest  in  spoil  ever  gained  by  any  people. 

Charles,  as  we  know,  did  not  lose  heart,  but 
collected  another  army,  determined  this  time  to 
wipe  these  pestilent  mountaineers  out  of  exist- 
ence. A  mile  south  of  Morat  you  may  see  the 
marble  obelisk  which  marks  the  place  of  Switzer- 
land's crowning  victory.  In  the  little  town 
itself  is  another  castle,  wherein  the  confederates, 
under  Adrian  von  Bubenberg,  resisted  the  in- 
vaders for  eleven  days.  On  22nd  June  1476 
the  Swiss  army  advanced  to  the  relief.  The 
advanced  guard  was  forced  back  by  the  Bur- 
gundians,  who  pursued  them  towards  the  forest, 
and  posted  themselves  behind  quickset  hedges. 
The  main  body  of  the  confederates  came  up, 
and  after  a  desperate  struggle  drove  the  enemy 
from  their  shelter  into  the  plain  to  the  south- 
ward. The  rain  poured  down  pitilessly,  and  not 
less  pitilessly  the  combat  was  continued.  The 
Burgundians  gave  way,  leaving  from  eight  to  ten 
thousand  men  dead  on  the  field.  All  the  bells 
were  rung  joyously  from  Neuchatel  to  the  abbey 
of  St  Gall. 

25 


Switzerland 

In  1504  the  countship  of  Neuchatel  passed  by 
inheritance  to  Louis  d' Orleans,  due  de  Longue- 
ville.  Eight  years  later,  while  France  was  at 
war  with  the  confederation,  the  territory  was 
occupied  by  the  Bernese.  The  circumstance 
was  of  great  importance  to  the  Neuchatelois, 
for  at  the  close  of  this  temporary  domination, 
Farel,  the  religious  reformer,  was  able  to 
introduce  Protestant  doctrines  into  the 
country. 

The  canton  is  not  to  be  congratulated  upon  its 
apostle.  Erasmus  said  that  he  had  never  met 
a  man  more  false,  more  violent,  or  more  seditious 
than  Farel,  who  was  nearly  torn  to  pieces  at 
Montbeliard  for  having  wrenched  an  image  from 
a  priest  and  thrown  it  into  the  river.  Another 
reformer  begged  this  zealot  to  be  an  evangelist 
and  not  a  tyrannical  legislator.  He  seems 
to  have  followed  this  advice  for  a  time,  and 
resorted  to  "  pious  frauds  "  to  beguile  the  Swiss 
from  their  ancient  faith.  He  spent  his  declining 
years  at  Neuchatel,  and  astonished  everyone 
by  taking  a  wife  at  the  age  of  seventy.  He  was 
very  urgent,  we  read,  with  monks  and  nuns  to 
break  their  vows.  His  indulgence  of  the  weak- 
ness of  human  nature  did  not  extend  to  heresy, 
and  he  was  an  accomplice  of  Calvin  in  murdering 
Serve tus.  However,  these  indiscretions  do  not 
appear  to  have  shaken  the  faith  of  the  Neu- 

26 


Neuchatel 

chatelois  in  his  doctrines,  which  are  professed 
(and  we  hope  not  practised)  by  100,000  out  of  a 
population  of  126,000. 

In  1530  the  territory  was  recovered  by  the 
Longuevilles.  The  overlordship  had  passed  to 
the  Dutch  branch  of  the  house  of  Orange,  by  a 
deed  executed  as  far  back  as  1288.  In  the  year 
1532,  Neuchatel  was  erected  into  a  principality, 
and  in  1648  was  recognised,  like  the  rest  of 
Switzerland,  as  outside  the  Empire.  Now  in 
1707  the  house  of  Longueville  came  to  an  end 
in  the  person  of  Marie  de  Nemours.  There  were 
fifteen  claimants  of  the  vacant  diadem ;  but 
the  chancellor,  MontmoUin,  got  the  Council  of 
State  to  decide  in  favour  of  Frederick  I.,  King 
of  Prussia,  to  whom  William  III.  of  England, 
the  last  of  the  suzerain  house  of  Orange,  had 
transferred  his  rights  on  his  death  five  years 
before.  The  Prussian  king  was  chosen  mainly 
because  the  other  claimants  were  all  Catholics. 

Neuchatel,  though  a  principality  under  a 
foreign  king,  continued  to  be  an  aUy  of  Berne 
and  Fribourg,  and  practically  a  member  of  the 
Swiss  confederation.  In  1806  it  was  ceded  by 
Frederick  William  III.  to  Napoleon,  who  be- 
stowed it  upon  Marshal  Berthier.  The  new 
prince  never  once  set  foot  in  his  dominions, 
but  entrusted  them  to  a  governor  named  M.  de 
Lesperut.     This  gentleman,  we  are  told  by  a 

27 


Switzerland 

local  historian,  "  passed  his  time  in  the  salons 
of  the  Neuchatelois  nobility.  The  ladies  of 
that  castle  still  recall  the  distinguished  manner 
in  which  he  read  Corneille  and  Racine  ;  but  the 
country  was  at  the  mercy  of  a  few  nobles,  who 
did  not  forget  to  remind  the  people  that  the 
sovereign  being  the  humble  servant  of  a  despot 
could  only  be  a  despotic  prince,  and  that  they 
being  the  servants  of  that  servant,  were  to  act 
as  their  master  and  the  master  of  that  master." 
The  King  of  Prussia  had  forgotten  all  about 
his  remote  appanage  when  in  1814  the  nobility 
aforesaid  sent  a  deputy  to  congratulate  him 
at  Bale  and  to  request  him  to  resume  his 
sovereignty.  This  he  did,  at  the  same  time 
acquiescing  in  the  formal  incorporation  of  Neu- 
chatel  within  the  confederation.  A  strange 
idea  for  the  King  of  Prussia  to  be  a  member  of  a 
republican  union  !  As  his  Majesty  had  no  time 
or  inclination  to  bother  himself  about  the  affairs 
of  Neuchatel,  the  government  fell  entirely  into 
the  hands  of  the  aristocracy,  who  continued  the 
policy  of  Berthier's  day.  In  1831  the  people 
began  to  growl.  On  the  night  of  13th  Septem- 
ber a  force  of  about  three  hundred  conspirators, 
led  by  a  young  man  named  Bourguin,  sur- 
rounded the  castle  and  occupied  it  without 
resistance.  The  Council  of  State  appealed  for 
help  to  Berne,  and  the  federal  authorities  took 

28 


Neuchatel 

possession  of  the  stronghold.  The  electors  were 
consulted  and  pronounced  for  a  continuance  of 
the  monarchy. 

During  the  next  sixteen  years  the  conflict 
waged  between  republicans  and  royalists.  Life 
did  not  wear  the  tranquil  aspect  it  does  now  in 
Neuchatel.  But  in  1847  the  canton  committed 
the  mistake  of  refusing  to  help  the  central 
Government  against  the  Sonderbund.  It  pre- 
ferred to  remain  neutral,  as  did  Kentucky  in 
1861  and  as  Cape  Colony  wished  to  do  in  1899. 
It  was  fined  five  hundred  thousand  francs.  Sure 
now  of  the  support  of  the  federal  authorities, 
the  republicans  rose  at  Le  Locle  in  February  1848, 
and,  under  the  leadership  of  A.  M.  Piaget,  forced 
the  princely  Government  to  surrender  its  powers. 
The  canton  became  a  republic,  like  all  its  sisters 
of  the  confederation. 

His  Prussian  Majesty  had  his  hands  full  at 
home,  and  could  do  nothing  just  then  to  pre- 
vent this  subversion  of  his  authority.  In  1852, 
however,  he  persuaded  the  other  powers  to 
renew  their  recognition  of  him  as  Prince  of 
Neuchatel,  and  encouraged  his  partisans  to 
assert  his  rights.  On  2nd  September  1856  a 
band  of  royalists,  headed  by  the  Count  de 
Pourtales,  suddenly  attacked  and  seized  the 
castle  of  Neuchatel,  just  as  the  republicans  had 
done  in  183 1.     They  issued  proclamations  calling 

29 


Switzerland 

on  the  people  to  rally  round  them  and  uphold 
their  legitimate  prince.  The  republicans  in  the 
mountain  district  immediately  took  up  the 
challenge  and  besieged  the  castle.  They  were 
joined  by  the  federal  troops,  who  on  4th  Septem- 
ber drove  the  royalists  from  their  stronghold 
with  a  loss  of  twelve  killed  and  a  hundred 
prisoners. 

The  leaders  of  the  revolt  were,  it  was  an- 
nounced, to  be  put  on  their  trial  for  high  treason. 
The  King  of  Prussia,  who  had  not  minded  very 
much  the  loss  of  his  sovereignty,  was  not  pre- 
pared to  stand  the  punishment  of  his  faithful 
adherents.  He  threatened  the  confederation 
with  war  unless  Pourtales  and  his  followers 
were  set  at  liberty.  The  federal  council  refused 
unless  Prussia  first  formally  renounced  her 
right  to  the  canton.  Napoleon  III.,  whose 
good  offices  Switzerland  had  invoked,  recom- 
mended the  liberation  of  the  royalists  ;  but  the 
republic  stood  firm.  Prussia  got  leave  from 
the  south  German  states  to  march  her  armies 
through  them  to  attack  Switzerland,  and  the 
Swiss  mustered  an  army  of  100,000  men  under 
the  veteran  Dufour.  But  Napoleon,  on  8th 
January  1858,  persuaded  the  obstinate  federals 
to  give  way,  and  to  content  themselves  with 
exiling  the  royalist  rebels.  In  return  for  this 
concession,  by  a  treaty  signed  at  Paris  on  20th 

30 


Neuchatel 

April,  Prussia  renounced  all  rights  to  the  canton. 
Switzerland  paid  the  king  an  indemnity  of  a 
million  francs,  and  granted  an  annuity  to  all 
concerned  in  any  way  in  the  late  troubles. 

And  so  this  anomaly  of  a  king  being  a  member 
of  a  republican  federation  and  of  a  principality 
forming  part  of  a  republic  came  to  an  end. 
It  was  well  indeed  for  federation  and  canton 
that  it  did  so,  as  the  Neuchatelois  must  have 
gratefully  reflected  when  war  broke  out  in  1870 
between  France  and  their  former  suzerain.  It  is 
not  likely  that  the  French  would  have  respected 
the  neutrality  of  their  enemy's  principality,  and 
an  invasion  of  the  King  of  Prussia's  Swiss 
appanage  would  have  meant  war  with  the  whole 
of  Switzerland.  The  danger  they  escaped  was 
brought  still  more  vividly  to  the  mind  of  the 
people  of  the  canton  when  Bourbaki's  army, 
broken  and  defeated,  was  hurled  back  against 
their  frontier  at  Pontarlier  and  Les  Verrieres, 
and  demanded  an  asylum  in  Switzerland.  Such 
a  demand  could  hardly  have  been  granted  by  the 
vassals  of  Prussia,  and  if  it  had  been,  assuredly 
the  Prussian  army  would  have  followed  the 
fugitives  and  attacked  them  on  Swiss  soil. 
Count  Pourtales  showed  such  unpatriotic  want 
of  foresight  that  he  did  not  deserve  that  one  of 
the  best  streets  in  Neuchatel  should  be  named 
after  him. 

31 


Switzerland 

Of  the  horrors  of  that  awful  retreat  across 
the  invisible  and  intangible  barrier  of  the  frontier 
I  have  read  no  more  vivid  description  than  that 
given  by  Paul  and  Victor  Margueritte  in  their 
novel,  "  Les  Troncons  du  Glaive." 

"  The  evening  of  the  31st,  Clinchant  reached 
Les  Verrieres,  where  he  found  the  artillery  and 
baggage  waggons  collected  amid  an  ever- 
increasing  swarm  of  scattered  troops  and  de- 
serters. From  the  French  to  the  Swiss  village, 
negotiations  passed  between  him  and  General 
Hertzog,  commanding  the  federal  army,  and  a 
convention  was  arranged.  Disarmed  at  the 
frontier,  the  men  were  to  proceed  to  the  places 
that  should  be  appointed,  the  officers  keeping 
their  swords,  guns  and  treasures  to  be  con- 
fided to  the  safe  keeping  of  Switzerland.  The 
signatures  having  been  exchanged,  the  troops 
immediately  began  to  cross  the  line.  They 
had  been  waiting  since  the  preceding  evening 
in  the  snow. 

"  Through  the  darkness,  the  tragic  defilade 
began.  B}^  the  narrow  defile  behind  Pon- 
tarlier,  by  the  roads  of  Les  Verrieres  and  Les 
Fourgs,  by  the  narrowest  fissures  in  the  moun- 
tains, the  compact  stream  poured,  flowed,  and 
trickled.  What  remained  of  the  15th,  20th, 
and  24th  corps,  a  confused  mob  of  infantry, 
horsemen,   gunners,   and  waggons  like  moving 

32 


Neuchatel 

barricades,  was  heaved  forward  in  a  black 
torrent,  dense  and  continuous.  But,  covering 
the  retreat,  in  the  defile  of  La  Cluse,  between 
the  fort  at  Joux  and  the  battery  in  the  snow 
at  Larmont,  the  roar  of  the  cannon,  the  furious 
rattle  of  musketry  was  heard  once  again.  The 
Prussian  advance  -  guard,  after  crossing  Pon- 
tarher,  took  four  hundred  waggons  loaded  with 
provisions,  and  rose  up  before  the  defiles.  Ming- 
ling with  the  convoy,  they  attacked  Pallu  de 
la  Barriere's  division,  the  general  reserve,  under 
cover  of  which  the  i8th  corps,  forming  the 
rear-guard,  was  then  retreating.  Two  of  its 
regiments  made  a  half-circle,  and  hastened  to 
join  the  reserve,  the  only  troops  which,  out  of 
the  hundred  thousand  men  who  set  out  from 
Bourges  and  Lyons,  kept  up  heart. 

"  These  at  least  were  heroes.  For  seven  hours 
they  tramped  through  blood  and  snow,  striding 
over  corpses,  step  by  step  to  make  their  way. 
Officers  and  men  vied  with  each  other.  Pallu's 
infantry  asked  him :  '  Are  you  satisfied, 
General  ?  '  Lieutenant  -  Colonel  Achilli  fell 
bravely.  To  a  flag  of  truce  endeavouring  to 
persuade  him  that  he  had  no  choice  but  to  yield, 
General  Robert  answered  :  '  There  is  still  death 
remaining.'  Until  night-fall,  thundering  from 
Joux  and  crackling  from  La  Cluse,  the  cannon 
and  the  musketry  covered  the  parting  of  the 
c  33 


Switzerland 

roads,  and  the  retreat  of  the  artillery,  proclaiming 
that  in  this  disaster  honour  was  not  altogether 
shipwrecked  ! 

"  Nearly  ninety  thousand  men  had  already 
been  thrown  on  to  Swiss  soil.  The  procession 
had  lasted  two  days.  From  one  twilight  to  the 
other,  all  night  long,  and  again  on  the  morrow, 
across  the  slopes  white  with  snow,  the  dark 
stream  flowed  down,  inexhaustibly.  With  a 
slow  relentless  impulse,  the  waves  starting  at 
the  rear  pushed  on  unceasingly,  driving  the 
others  before  them.  Between  hedges  of  the 
federal  troops,  motionless,  leaning  on  their 
arms,  the  tide  flowed  ever  onwards.  For  the 
last  to  enter,  the  first  must  march  for  leagues  and 
hours.  Thrown,  as  they  passed,  in  two  enormous, 
piles  on  each  side  of  the  road,  were  heaped 
up  rifles,  ammunition,  sabres,  revolvers,  and 
pouches.  Lances,  thrust  into  the  ground, 
bristled  Hke  a  leafless  forest.  Nothing  was 
heard  along  the  whole  length  of  the  moving 
line,  but  a  complaining  murmur  raised  by 
thousands  of  dry  coughs.  Nearly  all  werer 
limping,  with  bleeding  and  swollen  feet ;  be- 
neath the  unkempt  hair,  shaggy  faces  showed! 
eyes  that  gleamed  like  madmen's.  Theyl 
shivered  in  rags  that  swarmed  with  vermin.l 
At  intervals  there  passed  by  waggons  and' 
horses ;  with  the  flesh  worn  off   their  bones, 

34 


Neuchatel 

many  having  been  saddled  for  weeks — living 
ulcers  with  manes  and  tails  eaten  away;  so 
hungry  were  they  that  they  gnawed  the  wood 
at  the  back  of  the  waggons. 

"  At  this  sight  the  inhabitants,  assembled  by 
hundreds,  their  hands  laden  with  gifts,  began 
to  weep.  Hastening  from  the  towns,  villages 
and  solitary  huts,  they  brought  clothing,  bread, 
money,  drink  and  meat.  The  very  poorest 
gave. 

I  "  Into  great  wooden  troughs  overflowing  with 
warm  milk,  bowls  held  at  arm's  length  were 
plunged  in  turn  without  ceasing,  filled,  and  ^ 
emptied  at  a  draught.  Sometimes  by  the  roadside 
fell  the  dying,  senseless,  mute ;  they  were  raised 
up  kindly.  Barns  and  stables  soon  were  full, 
and  at  a  distance  in  the  plain,  the  schools  and 
churches.  A  boundless  charity  held  out  its 
arms,  touched  to  compassion  by  this  flood  of 
horrors,  such  as  man  never  remembered  to  have 
seen." 

The  horses  so  hungry  that  they  gnawed  the 
backs  of  the  waggons  !  Nothing  is  so  horrible 
in  horrible  war  as  the  sufferings  of  the  animals 
who  are  its  absolutely  involuntary,  innocent 
victims.  I  confess  the  wrongs  inflicted  on  horses 
and  cattle  during  our  South  African  campaign 
affected  me  more  poignantly  than  the  hard- 
ships endured  by  the  men.     And  by  a  heart- 

35 


Switzerland 

less  paradox  the  humanities  of  war,  extended 
under  the  Red  Cross  to  the  most  guilty  of  human 
combatants,  are  denied  to  these  helpless  ir- 
responsible non-combatants.  Perhaps  such  a 
scene  as  the  French  novelists  have  described 
might  have  done  good  to  our  journalists  who 
sneer  at  dreams  of  peace  among  the  nations 
and  exert  themselves  to  foment  national 
jealousies.  Most  of  these  gentry  have  never 
seen,  and  don't  intend  to  see,  a  shot  fired  in 
anger,  it  is  to  be  noted. 

While  staying  at  Neuchatel  I  walked  out  to  a 
little  place  on  the  lake  called  Auvernier,  where 
I  had  an  excellent  tea  at  an  inn  called  the  | 
"  Poisson."  This  was  the  reward  but  not  the  ob- 
ject of  my  excursion,  which  had  been  to  inspect  ' 
the  far-famed  lake-dwellings  of  Auvernier.  For 
if  the  fisherman  on  the  Lake  of  Neuchatel  does 
not  see  "  the  round  towers  of  other  days  in  the 
wave  beneath  him  shining,"  he  may  bump  his 
keel  at  low  water  on  the  piles  which  supported 
the  villages  of  an  even  remoter  generation. 
The  lake,  in  times  beyond  the  ken  of  history, 
seems  to  have  been  studded  with  these  strange 
abodes  of  primitive  man.  No  less  than  fifty 
"  villages  "  have  been  counted. 

It  was  probably  not  on  the  score  of  health 
that  the  lake-dweller  chose  to  fix  his  habitation 
on  the  waters ;    nor  was  it  that  craving  for  ! 

36 


Neuchatel 

luxury,  against  which  the  genial  Horace 
thundered  and  which  moved  the  Roman  pluto- 
crat to  build  his  villa  out  among  the  lapping 
waves  until  even  "  the  fishes  felt  the  ocean 
shrink."  Protection  against  a  neighbouring 
tribe  was  all  that  was  craved  of  the  old  stone- 
man,  an  ark  among  the  bulrushes  where  he  might 
be  safe  from  his  hereditary  foe.  And  so  he  set 
to  work  laboriously  to  hew  down  trees,  to 
sharpen  their  trunks  and  drive  them  as  stakes 
into  the  mud  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  but- 
tressing them  with  loose  heaps  of  stones.  On 
these  he  laid  horizontal  beams  of  wood  and 
twisted  stems,  and  lo !  a  spacious  platform 
above  the  water  some  few  hundred  feet  from 
land,  from  which  the  Neolith  might  with  im- 
punity hurl  insults  at  his  less  ingenious  neigh- 
bour on  the  shore.  Then  came  the  speculative 
builder,  and  erected  what  the  skin-clad 
auctioneer  no  doubt  described  as  "  highly  desir- 
able modern  residences."  Their  walls  were 
wattle-work  bound  together  with  clay.  Reeds 
or  rushes  from  the  lake,  the  bark  of  trees,  and 
straw  (probably  pilfered  from  a  hostile  clan) 
went  to  the  making  of  the  roof.  The  floor  was 
clay,  with  flat  stone  slabs  let  in  to  form  the 
hearth.  Of  doors  and  windows  we  have  no 
details ;  the  latter  probably  were  lacking. 
The  dwellings  varied  considerably  in  size,  reach- 

37 


Switzerland 

ing  at  times  the  palatial  proportions  of  twenty- 
seven  by  twenty-two  feet. 

The  lake  man  did  not  love  to  dwell  alone. 
Each  platform  seems  to  have  been  thickly 
crowded  with  huts,  with  only  about  three  feet 
of  space  between.  Here  he  lived  with  his  wives 
and  his  sons  and  his  daughters,  his  uncles  and 
his  cousins,  his  oxen  and  his  asses,  in  emulation 
of  Noah.  Probably,  stabled  in  the  lake  below 
him  he  kept  his  pet  hippopotamus,  or  behemoth, 
or  whatever  were  the  prehistoric  equivalents  of 
the  Persian  cat  and  the  Pekinese. 

The  watery  stronghold  has  always  been  dear 
to  the  heart  of  the  Celtic  peoples.     In  Ireland  it 
persisted  well  into  the  sixteenth  century,  and  in 
the  wilder  Scottish  Highlands  are  scattered  evi- 
dences that  it  was  not  despised  by  the  chieftains 
of  Ossian  and  Fingal.     These  lacustrine  Venices 
in  times  of  peace  were  often  connected  with  the 
strand  by  a  long  and  narrow  gangway,  built 
so  that  it  might  easily  be  destroyed  when  the 
war-note  sounded  over  the  hills.     Then  when 
there  were  things  a-doing  on  the  mainland  the  - 
prehistoric  warriors,   at  dead  of  night,   would  i 
shoot  silently  over  the  waters  in  long  canoes  i 
of  bark,  deftly  steering  among  the  shadows  oni 
the  lake  to  elude  a  watchful  eye.     One  of  these 
canoes  has  been  found  deeply  embedded  in  the  - 
mud  at  the  bottom  of  Lake  Neuchatel.    A  curious  i 

38 


Neuchatel 

structure  it  is,  forty  feet  in  length  by  only 
four  in  breadth,  hollowed  out  of  a  tree- trunk. 
The  lake-dweller  must  have  had  the  skill  of 
an  Oxford  blue  to  sail  so  frail  a  craft  in  safety. 

The  settlements  at  Auvemier  tell  of  two 
remote  societies.  One  dates  back  to  the  age 
of  stone,  the  other  to  the  days  when  men  first 
learned  the  art  of  Tubal-Cain  and  fashioned 
their  implements  of  bronze.  This  is  the  more  in- 
teresting and  the  richest  in  relics.  Only  twelve 
feet  below  the  surface  of  the  lake  it  lay  for 
thousands  of  years,  unsuspected  of  the  fishermen, 
guarding  the  secrets  of  "  old  forgotten  far-off 
things,  and  battles  long  ago."  To  the  archae- 
ologist it  speaks  of  a  race  of  beings,  intelligent, 
highly  socialised,  not  lacking  in  culture.  They 
practised  agriculture,  and  knew  several  varieties 
of  wheat  and  barley.  They  spun  linen,  flax  and 
wool,  which  supplemented  the  skins  of  beasts 
as  clothing.  Their  food  and  houses  seem  to 
have  been  superior  to  those  of  more  historic 
times.  The  pottery  that  has  been  recovered 
is  fine  in  texture,  and  of  an  elegant  shape, 
ornamented  with  waving  lines  that  recall  the 
Greek. 

As  might  be  expected,  most  of  the  relics 
dredged  up  from  the  submerged  villages  are 
implements  of  warfare.  There  are  spear-heads 
in  stone  and  bronze,  axes,  sickles,  knives  and 

39 


Switzerland 

hammers  that  have  been  lodged  in  the  museum 
at  the  little  town  of  Boudry — Marat's  birth- 
place— on  the  road  from  Neuchatel  to  Lausanne ; 
and  most  important  of  all  from  the  archaeologist's 
point  of  view  are  six  bronze  swords,  all  richly 
chased,  which  prove  their  masters  to  have 
achieved  some  distinction  in  the  art  of  warfare. 

It  is  curious  that  of  all  the  hundreds  of  the 
lake-villages  of  Switzerland  not  one  has  yielded 
what  can  be  regarded  as  a  religious  relic.  There 
has  been  found  nothing  approaching  an  idol  or 
an  image.  Can  it  be  possible  that  the  primitive 
men  of  the  Stone  and  Bronze  ages  were  un- 
trammelled by  the  superstitions  that  have 
weighed  down  primitive  peoples  from  the  dawn 
of  history  to  the  present  day  ? 

But  in  other  respects  at  any  rate  they  were 

strangely  like  their  far-off  descendants.     They 

had   their   little   vanities.     Rings   and   twisted 

necklaces   have   come   to   light,    and   bracelets 

enough  to  delight  our  Saxon  forefathers.     Beads 

of  stone  and  amber,  and  very  rarely  of  silver, 

adorned  the  daughters  of  the  race.     But  most 

common   article   of   all   are — hairpins  !     Unlike 

the  modern  article,  these  are  elaborate  affairs 

of  bronze,  their  heads  ornamented  with  plates 

and  bands  of  gold.     In  length  they  sometimes 

measure  sixteen  inches,  and  at  a  crisis  I  can 

imagine    their    fair   owners    using    them    as    a 

40 


Neuchatel 

formidable  weapon  to  revenge  some  insult  offered 
by  their  lovers.  I  like  to  think  of  these  pre- 
historic women,  with  vigorous  bodies  and  sun- 
tanned flesh,  fastening  these  barbaric  bodkins  in 
their  long  hair  with  conscious  coquetry;  and 
I  like  to  think  of  the  dusky  evenings  in  old 
Helvetia,  when  the  lake-dwelling  warrior  made 
his  primeval  courtship  while  the  water  rippled 
through  the  rushes,  and  the  winds  ruffled  the 
violet  shadows  on  the  lake.  And  over  all  the 
stars  shone  on  the  eternal  snows  and  on  the 
eternal  passions  of  humanity. 


41 


THE    PAYS    DE    VAUD 

In  the  early  dawn  of  my  childhood  I  heard  a 
voice,  unrecognisable  now,  singing  of  the 
"  beautiful  Pays  de  Vaud."  I  thought  it  would 
be  pleasant  to  go  to  that  country,  where,  I 
gathered.  Nature,  a  great  green  kindly  lady, 
sat  with  an  open  picture-book  on  her  lap,  ready 
to  show  it  to  all  comers.  Nearly  twenty  years 
passed  before  my  desire  was  fulfilled,  and 
though  the  Pays  de  Vaud  is  indeed  beautiful, 
it  fell  very  far  short  of  the  country  of  my 
childish  imagining.  But  I  can  say  as  much, 
unfortunately,  of  other  and  wider  realms  than 
the  country  of  Agassiz. 

I  think  the  glamour  in  this  instance  must  have 
worn  thin  very  early,  for  I  certainly  felt  no 
thrill  of  hope  or  exultation  as  I  rode  one  autumn 
morning  for  the  first  time  across  the  rivulet 
which  divides  the  canton  of  Neuchatel  from  the 
canton  Vaud,  and  struck  southwards  past  the 
peaked  towers  of  historic  Grandson,  along  the 
shore  of  the  placid  lake.  Montreux  was  my 
destination,  and  I  knew  that  a  stiff  climb  lay 
between  me  and  Lausanne.  Yet  I  spared  an 
hour  to  Yverdon,  where  the  statue  of  Pestalozzi 
looks   towards  the  old  Burgundian  chateau  in 

42 


1 »     1     J    >       J      > 


»     J  ;  > 


I'l   ?'.  •, 


The  Pays  de  Vaud 

which  he  carried  out  his  system  of  education. 
The  Httle  town  wore  a  martial  rather  than  a 
scholastic  air  just  then.  Its  three  streets  re- 
echoed to  the  tramp  of  the  soldier-citizens, 
while  guns  limbered  up  rumbled  past  as  though 
an  enemy's  camp  fires  lit  the  Jura.  The  state 
of  the  country  roads  had  already  reminded  me 
that  a  state  of  mimic  war  prevailed  around 
Yverdon,  and  that  the  confederation  was  ex- 
ercising her  sons  in  arms.  They  looked  smart, 
alert  and  formidable,  these  Helvetic  infantrymen, 
in  whose  caps  it  seems  strange  to  see  the  cross 
the  soldier  of  other  lands  has  learnt  to  associate 
with  peace  and  mercy.  Leaving  the  din  and 
circumstance  of  glorious  war  behind,  I  pushed 
on  past  the  quiet  little  spa  and  casino  of  Yverdon, 
well  suited  by  its  leafy  tranquillity  for  nervous 
folk,  and  saw  rising  before  me  the  black  and 
cloudy  uplands  of  the  Pays  de  Vaud.  I  had 
chanced  upon  a  blank  page  in  Nature's  picture- 
book. 

As  I  toiled  up  those  endless  winding  ascents 
I  had  time  to  think  over  the  history  of  the  land, 
and,  finding  I  knew  so  little  about  it,  to  promise 
myself  further  instruction.  It  has  been  written 
in  considerable  detail  by  the  patriotic  men  of 
learning  in  whom  this  soil  seems  so  prolific.  In 
these  erudite  tomes  you  may  read  how  the 
country  fell  upon  the  death  of  the  last  Duke  of 
Zahringen  to  Count  Peter  of  Savoy,  "  the  little 

43 


Switzerland 

Charlemagne,"  and  how  he  and  his  successors 
endeared  themselves  to  the  Vaudois  by  their 
respect  for  justice  and  liberty.  The  happy 
land  was  not  even  taxed,  but  consented  of  its 
own  accord  from  time  to  time  to  supply  funds 
with  which  to  carry  on  the  government. 
Moudon  was  the  seat  of  the  Count's  bailiff ; 
Lausanne  remained  the  exclusive  domain  of  its 
bishop. 

In  an  evil  hour  for  the  Vaudois,  the  Count 
and  many  of  the  nobles  espoused  the  cause  of 
Charles  the  Bold.  Following  on  their  victory 
at  Grandson,  the  Switzers  overran  the  country 
and  left  it  in  a  state  of  anarchy.  The  nobility, 
who  had  long  been  jealous  of  the  towns,  aspired 
to  virtual  independence.  Some  of  the  towns 
remained  loyal  to  Savoy,  others  thought  that 
in  their  submission  to  Berne  lay  their  only 
safeguard  against  the  barons.  The  uncertainty 
of  their  political  destiny  notwithstanding,  the 
people  laughed  and  possibly  grew  fat.  Boni- 
vard,  writing  at  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  reports :  "  1  lived  at  a  certain  place  in 
this  country  while  the  pest  was  ravaging  it  .  .  . 
yet  all  the  while  you  might  have  seen  the  girls 
dancing  to  the  sound  of  the  virioUs  and  singing 
songs  as  if  it  were  shrove-tide."  The  Vaudois 
were,  in  fact,  on  the  eve  of  a  long  Lent.  In  1522, 
in  the  midst  of  this  political  and  social  anarchy, 
the  doctrines  of  Luther  were  introduced  into 

44 


The  Pays  de  Vaud 


the  country  by  an  ex-monk  named  Lambert. 
He  met  with  a  hostile  reception,  as  also  did 
Farel,  who  opened  a  conventicle  at  Aigle.  The 
magistrates  and  clergy  ordered  the  expulsion 
of  these  innovators.  The  Bernese  were  not 
slow  to  avail  themselves  of  this  new  pretext  for 
interference  in  the  affairs  of  their  derelict 
neighbours.  They  sent  Rodolphe  Nagili,  one 
of  their  most  energetic  captains,  to  Aigle  with 
orders  to  protect  Farel  and  force  the  reformed 
religion  upon  the  inhabitants.  This  was  not, 
however,  to  be  done  all  at  once.  Farel  could 
only  preach  with  the  sword  of  Berne  flashing 
behind  him,  and  an  image-desecrating  expedition 
met  with  a  stout  resistance. 

Meanwhile  the  Duke  of  Savoy  had  pledged 
Vaud  to  the  Bernese  as  a  guarantee  that  he 
would  not  molest  Geneva.  In  1535  that  city 
embraced  the  Protestant  creed.  This  was  more 
than  her  suzerain  could  stand,  and  he  at  once 
attacked  her.  The  patricians  of  Berne  were  not 
the  men  to  miss  such  a  chance.  They  marched 
an  army  into  the  Pays  de  Vaud  to  claim  fulfil- 
ment of  the  pledge,  and  after  trifling  resistance 
occupied  the  territory  as  far  as  the  Lake  of 
Leman.  Lausanne  had  thrown  off  the  yoke 
of  her  bishop  and  was  also  crushed  in  the  tight 
embrace  of  the  bear  from  the  Aar. 

The  Vaudois  had  soon  reason  to  regret  the 
change  of  rulers.    The  old  faith  was  remorsely 

45 


Switzerland 

extirpated,  and  the  property  of  the  Church  was 
seized  by  the  new  Government.  Yet,  strange 
to  say,  as  in  England,  the  people  have  continued 
attached  to  the  religion  which  was  thus  forced 
upon  them  by  their  masters  for  purely  political 
objects.  The  Bernese  were  at  once  Pope  and 
Caesar.  They  expelled  the  Catholic  clergy  and 
excluded  the  natives  of  the  country  from  all 
share  in  the  government.  Taxes  were  levied 
without  the  consent  of  the  states,  which  ceased 
to  be  summoned.  All  authority  was  vested  in 
the  bailiff,  who  was  chosen  from  among  the 
patricians  of  Berne  for  a  term  of  six  years, 
during  which  he  lived  like  a  prince  at  the  sole 
expense  of  the  subject  people.  Nor  was  this 
a  merely  passive  tyranny.  The  Bernese  had  a 
perfect  craze  for  legislation  and  harassed  the 
unfortunate  province  by  an  ever-increasing 
multitude  of  laws  and  ordinances.  Their  Ex- 
cellencies, as  they  styled  themselves,  were 
clever  enough,  moreover,  to  foment  dissensions 
between  the  gentry  and  the  common  people, 
and,  in  short,  pursued  the  policy  of  the  worst 
Italian  oligarchies.  Under  their  harsh  adminis- 
tration, however,  education  made  rapid  strides, 
and  public  security  was  rigorously  maintained. 
For  nearly  two  hundred  years  the  patient 
Vaudois  bore  this  heavy  yoke  without  a  murmur. 
They  paid  the  taxes  and  fought  in  the  armies 
of  their  oppressors.     Having  taken  an  honour- 

46 


The  Pays  de  Vaud 

able  share  in  the  victory  of  Bremgarten,  they 
made  so  bold  as  to  ask  their  rulers  to  convoke 
the  estates  of  Moudon  to  consider  the  grievances 
of  the  country.  Their  Excellencies  rejected  the 
proposal  with  contempt.  At  last,  in  1723, 
Major  Davel,  a  Vaudois  officer  who  had  dis- 
tinguished himself  in  the  service  of  Berne,  de- 
termined to  raise  his  country  to  the  rank  of  a 
canton.  He  was  a  hare-brained  visionary  and 
dreamer,  wholly  unsuited  to  head  such  an 
enterprise.  Without  taking  anyone  into  his 
confidence  he  marched  his  battalion  into  Lau- 
sanne, and,  having  surrounded  the  town  hall, 
submitted  his  demands  for  the  convocation  of 
the  estates  and  the  recognition  of  the  liberties 
of  Vaud  to  the  Bernese  governors.  These 
crafty  officials  affected  sympathy  with  the 
movement,  and  De  Crousaz,  one  of  their  number, 
persuaded  the  Major  to  pass  the  night  in  his 
house  while  the  proposals  were  duly  considered. 
Next  morning,  on  his  way  to  the  town  hall, 
Davel  was  to  his  astonishment  arrested  by  the 
commander  of  a  force  the  magistrates  had  in- 
troduced into  the  town  overnight.  No  mercy 
was  shown  him  by  the  ruthless  and  grasping 
oligarchy.  He  was  imprisoned  at  the  Porte 
Saint  Maire,  and  put  to  "  the  question,"  which 
means  that  he  was  tortured  by  the  crushing  of 
his  wrists  and  ankles.  Finally  he  was  beheaded 
at  Vidy,  outside  Lausanne,  on  24th  April  1723, 

47 


Switzerland 

predicting  that  his  Hfe  would  be  found  not  to 
have  been  sacrificed  in  vain. 

His  prophecy  was  fulfilled.  The  roar  of  the 
French  Revolution  began  to  echo  among  the 
hills  of  Vaud,  and  the  people  roused  themselves 
from  their  ignoble  apathy.  Their  celebrated 
countryman,  Laharpe,  who  had  been  the  tutor 
of  the  Tsar  Alexander,  had  the  ear  of  the 
Directory  and  moved  them  on  behalf  of  his 
little  Fatherland.  The  first  risings  were  sup- 
pressed with  bloodshed  by  the  Bernese,  who 
maintained  their  arrogant  bearing  to  the  last. 
But  in  1797  they  received  a  stern  warning  from 
Paris  that  they  would  be  held  responsible 
individually  for  any  injury  done  to  the  persons 
or  property  of  the  Vaudois.  In  January  the 
French  troops  crossed  the  frontier,  and  on  the 
24th  the  colours  of  the  new  Lemanic  Republic 
were  hoisted  over  the  town  hall  of  Lausanne. 
The  Government  of  Berne  was  at  an  end,  and 
Vaud  was  for  the  first  time  in  history  a  nation. 

Her  identity  was  presently  lost  in  the  Helvetic 
Republic  —  one  and  indivisible  —  and  again 
emerged  as  one  of  the  sovereign  cantons  of  the 
reformed  confederation  established  under  the 
auspices  of  Napoleon.  There  were  in  Vaud,  as 
in  all  countries,  many  people  who  sighed  for  their 
accustomed  chains,  but  on  the  whole  the  new 
canton  showed  more  gratitude  than  the  other 

Swiss  states  for  the  enormous  benefits  France 

48 


J       *    >       •    »    J       • 

>       0    r>»    a     >      »     J 

>  >       >       1     >  ) 


».'  :  >  ?  ' 


> 
> 


O 


i  c        f      «,r    •     t.        f 


The  Pays  de  Vaud 

had  conferred  on  the  country.  When  darkness 
overspread  the  earth  again  after  Waterloo,  there 
was  a  rumour  that  the  power  of  Berne  was  to 
be  restored.  But  it  was  too  late.  Where  the 
flag  of  the  Revolution  had  once  waved,  the  old 
rotten  order  of  things  could  never  recover  its 
full  strength  again.  The  English  reinstated 
Ferdinand  VII.  in  Spain  and  expelled  the 
French,  but  the  seed  of  liberty  took  root  in  the 
peninsula  all  the  same.  Similarly  Vaud  survived 
the  downfall  of  her  liberator.  She  remains  a 
self-governing  state  in  a  republican  confedera- 
tion ;  and  to  emphasise  her  love  of  liberty  she 
puts  that  word  first  in  her  device — Liherte,  Patrie. 
Not  a  very  glorious  history  !  illumined  only 
by  that  isolated  episode  of  Davel's  martyrdom. 
One  wishes  these  people  had  not  so  meekly 
accepted  the  rule  and  religion  of  the  stranger, 
though  larger  and  more  powerful  communities 
have  made  no  shame  of  doing  so.  Yet,  thanks 
to  some  mysterious  federal  rights  possessed  by 
the  canton  of  Fribourg  in  these  parts,  Romanism 
still  lingers  at  the  dull  little  town  of  Echallens 
on  the  summit  of  the  watershed,  which  I  reached 
after  a  wearisome  climb  from  Yverdon.  Such 
is  the  zeal  of  the  Vaudois  for  the  creed  forced 
upon  them  by  alien  tyrants  that  in  this  poor 
little  oasis  of  the  old  faith  I  found  an  evangelical 
missionary  establishment.  Like  most  enter- 
prises of  the  kind,  its  first  appeal  was  to  the 

D  49 


Switzerland 

corporal  needs  of  man  :  attached  to  the  Christian 
Young  Men's  Institute  is  a  restaurant  where  I 
made  a  hasty  meal.  It  was  meagre  enough, 
consisting  of  eggs  fried  in  butter  as  bitter  and 
salt  as  Calvin's  creed  ;  and  I  consoled  myself 
by  reflecting  that  such  fare  was  likely  to  pre- 
judice all  who  partook  of  it,  once  for  aU,  against 
this  most  unlovely  and  unethical  system  of  faith 
and  morals. 

A  mile  or  two  beyond  this  dismal  town  I  saw 
the  Lake  of  Geneva  spread  out  below  me — a 
vast,  profoundly  blue  expanse,  dotted  with  white 
sails  and  pearl-grey  smudges  of  smoke  ;  to  right 
and  left  stretched  the  green  shores,  flecked  by 
white-walled  towns ;  straight  before  me,  rising 
from  invisible  bases,  Mont  Blanc  lifted  its  dome 
above  the  clouds — the  bulwark,  as  it  seemed, 
of  a  far,  aerial  kingdom.  The  sun  was  shifting 
towards  Geneva.  Its  rays  were  pale  gold  and 
were  caught  over  the  Alps  of  Savoy  by  a  fleet 
of  curling  clouds  sailing  to  the  north.  As  I 
gazed  a  great  bird  rose  up,  as  it  seemed,  from  the 
dust  before  my  wheel,  dazed  me  for  an  instant 
with  a  whirr  and  ruffling  of  great  wings,  and 
then  with  these  wide  outstretched  speeded  across 
the  lake  into  France. 

It  was  good  to  let  my  noiseless  wheel  rush 
down  that  long,  winding  slope  into  Lausanne, 
ever  quickening  its  pace  and  forcing  the  moun- 
tain air  into  my  face  and  lungs.     The  chill  of  the 

so 


The  Pays  de  Vaud 

bleak  uplands  of  Echallens  was  gone,  and  an 
immense  exhilaration  possessed  me.  In  those 
moments  I  was  intensely  conscious  of  my  youth 
and  of  the  present.  Most  happiness  is  retro- 
spective or  prospective.  The  joy  of  the  senses 
belongs  to  the  moment. 

Such  thrills  are  more  often  experienced  on 
the  higher  Alps  far  above  the  snow-line  than 
approaching  sedate  scholastic  Lausanne.  The 
capital  of  the  canton  Vaud  is  a  city  of  the  Bath 
and  Cheltenham  type — given  up  to  leisure, 
lettered  ease,  and  the  amenities  of  artificial  life. 
Here  nature  is  contemplated,  admired  and  shut 
out.  It  is  a  town  suited  to  scholars  and  old 
maids.  It  stands  a  little  way  back  from  the  lake 
as  if  afraid  to  wet  its  feet.  One  understands 
why  such  a  place  bore  so  long  the  oppressive 
yoke  of  Berne — tragedy,  blood,  strife,  would  be 
out  of  harmony  with  its  essential  atmosphere. 
In  spite  of  its  changes  of  masters,  Lausanne 
has  been  unusually  fortunate  in  avoiding  these 
disagreeable  things.  When  the  Bernese  invaded 
the  country  the  bishop  fled  without  testing  the 
powers  of  resistance  of  his  strong  castle  which 
still  looms  over  the  city.  The  religion  of  Lau- 
sanne was  then  decided,  not  by  the  appeal  to 
arms  usual  in  such  cases,  but  by  a  controversy 
in  the  cathedral  between  Calvin  and  the  Catholic 
theologians.  If  the  black  Pope  of  Geneva  really 
won  in  this  battle  of  words,  his  opponents  must 

SI 


Switzerland 

have  been  phenomenally  poor  dialecticians ! 
However,  it  is  admitted  that  when  the  people 
had  heard  enough  they  hastened  to  ransack  the 
church  while  their  masters  confiscated  the 
bishop's  property.  Even  Davel's  pronuncia- 
miento  failed  to  stain  the  streets  with  blood. 
Meanwhile  the  townsfolk  were  subjected  to 
an  ecclesiastical  tyranny  from. which  the  Holy 
Office  would  have  refrained.  It  was  the  golden 
age  of  Stiggins,  You  were  fined  or  imprisoned 
if  you  didn't  go  to  church ;  dancing,  card- 
playing,  snuff-taking  and  tobacco-smoking  were 
criminal  offences ;  the  men's  wigs  were  not 
allowed  to  exceed  a  certain  size  ;  the  women  of 
the  bourgeoisie  were  forbidden  to  wear  more 
than  one  petticoat  at  a  time — though  I  should 
imagine  that  violations  of  this  last-mentioned 
law  could  not  very  easily  have  been  detected. 
It  was  always  Good  Friday  in  Lausanne ;  but 
the  Calvinistic  churches  have  always  been 
respecters  of  persons  and  were  careful  to  explain 
that  these  laws  did  not  apply  to  the  gentry  and 
the  magistrates. 

The  gentry  were  not  easily  reached  by  the 
spiritual  shepherds  of  Lausanne.  Having  no 
part  in  the  government  of  their  own  country, 
they  went  abroad  when  young  and  often  dis- 
tinguished themselves  as  soldiers,  scholars  and 
statesmen  in  the  service  of  foreign  powers.  I 
have  named  Laharpe.     M.  Vulliet,  the  historian 

52 


The  Pays  de  Vaud 

of  the  canton,  mentions,  among  other  illustrious 
natives.  Generals  Haldimand  and  Ribeaupierre, 
of  the  British  and  Russian  services  respectively, 
and  several  others  who  seem  to  have  made  a 
stir  in  the  literary  circles  of  their  day.  These 
exiles  returned  sooner  or  later  to  the  city  by  the 
lake,  and  tempered  the  puritanical  atmosphere 
with  the  graces  if  not  the  gallantries  of  the 
courts  they  had  left.  The  academies  of  Geneva 
and  Lausanne  furnished  pastors  and  martyrs 
to  the  Huguenot  communities  in  the  south  of 
France,  but  at  home  the  spirit  of  Calvin  was 
modified  by  the  charm  of  "  madrigals,  im- 
promptus and  stanzas  to  Chloe.  ...  It  was  a 
joyous  but  also  a  serious  society." 

These  cultured  townsfolk  attracted  the  friends 
they  had  made  amid  other  scenes,  and  by  the 
middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  Lausanne,  like 
Geneva,  had  become  a  favourite  resort  of  the 
polite  world.  Perhaps  the  town's  best  claim 
to  the  affectionate  remembrance  of  mankind  is 
that  here  Gibbon  completed  his  stupendous 
work.  Voltaire  liked  the  place,  Madame  de 
Stael  was  bored  there.  Much  has  been  written, 
and  I  shall  say  no  more,  of  the  literary  as- 
sociations of  the  Vaudois  capital.  "  All  the 
amenities  of  society  and  sound  philosophy," 
wrote  the  great  historian,  "  have  found  their 
way  into  the  part  of  Switzerland  in  which  the 
cHmate  is  most  agreeable  and  wealth  abounds. 

53 


Switzerland 

The  people  here  have  succeeded  in  grafting  the 
pohteness  of  Athens  upon  the  simpHcity  of 
Sparta." 

One  wishes  they  had  hkewise  grafted  the 
patriotism  of  Thrasybulus  on  the  valour  of 
Leonidas.  But  Lausanne  had  found  out  that 
she  pleased  the  elegant  foreigner,  and  she  has 
dreaded  ever  since  everything  that  might  drive 
him  away.  You  must  not  look  for  heroes  at 
health  resorts,  nor  expect  to  hear  a  new  Mar- 
seillaise at  Margate.  Lausanne  still  profits 
handsomely  by  foreign  gold.  Her  schools  swarm 
with  English  boys  and  girls,  and  there  is  a  large 
resident  English  colony.  In  some  parts  of  the 
town  you  might  fancy  yourself  in  Bath  or 
Cheltenham.  Elderly  gentlemen  of  the  Anglo- 
Indian  type  pass  you  discussing  the  iniquities 
of  the  Liberal  Government  and  predicting  that 
their  country  is  going  to  the  dogs — which  is 
perhaps  the  reason  why  they  elect  to  spend  their 
pensions  and  educate  their  children  in  a  republi- 
can country. 

There  appear  to  be  no  manufactures  or 
serious  industries  in  the  pleasant  Vaudois 
capital,  but  it  flourishes  exceedingly  for  all 
that.  The  outskirts  resound  with  the  hammer- 
ing of  builders  and  carpenters  ;  there  is  con- 
siderable show  of  modest  opulence.  In  native 
society,  the  academic  and  legal  elements  pre- 
dominate, for  this  is  the  seat  not  only  of  a 

54 


The  Pays  de  Vaud 

university  but  of  the  supreme  federal  tribunal. 
This  was  established  at  Lausanne  as  a  solatium 
for  all  the  other  federal  institutions  having  been 
fixed  in  German-speaking  cantons.  Now  the 
Bernese  have  to  come  up  for  judgment  among 
the  people  they  looked  down  upon  as  slaves. 

Tourists  and  globe-trotters  do  not  stay  long 
in  Lausanne,  and  scarcely  give  more  than  a 
glance  at  its  historic  monuments.  The  castle 
of  St  Maire,  where  the  bishops  reigned  and  re- 
velled, and  Davel  spent  his  last  night,  is  now 
sadly  modernised  and  houses  the  cantonal 
administration.  The  cathedral  was  built  by 
Catholic  hands  and  still  looks  fair  and  stately 
outside  ;  since  the  Calvinist  conquest  the  in- 
terior has  been  sv/ept  and  garnished,  and  seems 
to  have  been  taken  possession  of  by  spirits 
other  than  those  of  religion. 

Finding  yourself  on  the  shore  of  the  lake,  you 
may  be  tempted  to  cross  over  into  Savoy ; 
or,  if  you  have  not  had  enough  of  the  odour  of 
puritanism,  may  follow  the  shore  to  Geneva  past 
dull  Merges  and  picturesque  Nyon.  It  is  worth 
while  to  turn  aside  for  a  glance  at  Vufflens,  the 
grandest  castle  on  Swiss  soil.  "  This  magnificent 
feudal  manor,"  exclaims  a  German  traveller, 
"  symbolises  the  power  of  those  proud  barons, 
the  vassals  of  the  kings  of  Burgundy  and  the 
dukes  of  Savoy,  who  were  all  but  the  equals  of 
their  suzerain.     All  the  poetry  of  the  middle 

55 


Switzerland 

age  seems  to  reside  in  the  mighty  towers  of  this 
imposing  monument.  The  image  of  the  rude 
agitated  Ufe  which  once  filled  this  lonely  neigh- 
bourhood with  noise  and  strife  impresses  on  us 
more  forcibly  the  charm  of  the  soft  and  peaceful 
existence  which  is  led  to-day  at  the  foot  of  these 
towers." 

The  castle  is  formed  by  two  buildings :  the 
keep  or  donjon,  fifty-four  metres  in  height,  and 
a  square  palace  or  residential  block  adjacent, 
flanked  at  each  angle  with  a  round  tower. 
Keep  and  towers  blossom  out  at  their  summits 
into  the  heavy  machicolated  galleries  so  common 
in  Italy  and  carry  high-pitched  and  pinnacled 
roofs.  Certain  parts  of  the  stronghold  may 
date  from  the  twelfth  century,  but  the  keep 
as  a  building  is  not  older  than  the  first  decade 
of  the  fifteenth  century,  and  was  restored  in 
i860.  The  interior  of  the  castle  presents  a 
curious  combination  of  styles,  the  work  of 
successive  generations.  The  vaulting  of  the 
baronial  hall  reminds  one  of  St  Mark's,  Venice. 
It  need  not  be  said  that  the  view  from  the 
platform  of  the  keep  embraces  a  magnificent 
expanse  of  mountain  and  lake. 

In  the  opposite  direction,  from  Lausanne  you 
may  proceed  always  beside  the  lake  towards 
Vevey  and  Montreux.  With  every  stride  you 
take  new  mountains  come  into  view,  new 
combinations  of  white  peaks  and  ragged  rocks 

56 


•  > '  ,  ',  i  ' ; 


"3 


The  Pays  de  Vaud 

rival  each  other  in  sublimity,  till  at  last  the 
glorious  sun-kissed  Dent  du  Midi  closes  the 
prospect.  Vevey  itself  is  a  little  Lausanne, 
thriving,  pleasant,  and  a  favourite  resort  of 
foreign  gentlefolk.  Its  name  is  gratefully  re- 
membered in  the  world's  nurseries.  Vevey  is 
also  the  emporium  of  a  drink  not  made  for 
babes  or  brown  cats.  It  is  the  capital  of  the 
wine  district,  and  Swiss  wine,  it  should  be  said, 
is  by  no  means  to  be  despised.  The  natives  like 
it  so  well  that  drunkenness  is  their  besetting 
weakness.  Vevey  has  always  been  devoted  to 
the  cult  of  Bacchus  and  has  found  gold  at  the 
bottom  of  the  cup.  A  fraternity  of  vine- 
dressers seems  to  have  existed  here  from  the 
earliest  times,  but  its  archives  were  unhappily 
burnt  in  1688.  To  this  "  abbey  of  the  vine- 
growers  "  is  due  the  institution  of  the  celebrated 
Fete  des  Vignerons,  which  has  for  hundreds  of 
years  been  held  in  the  market-place  at  Vevey 
at  various  and  ever-lengthening  intervals.  This 
is  almost  the  greatest  festival  in  Switzerland 
and  attracts  an  immense  concourse.  In  1833 
more  than  25,000  visitors  flocked  into  the  town; 
in  1889  no  fewer  than  170,000  strangers  were 
present.  Special  music  and  dances  are  prepared 
for  the  pageant,  in  which  the  actors  are  without 
exception  natives,  though  they  usually  number 
over  a  thousand. 

"  The  fete   des   vignerons,"   writes    Armand 

57 


Switzerland 

Vautier,  "  is  the  great  national,  patriotic,  and 
popular  feast,  the  festival  of  agriculture,  truly 
born  of  the  soil  on  which  it  is  celebrated.  Its 
poetry  is  thoroughly  impregnated  with  the  odour 
of  the  spot,  in  spite  of  its  repeated  incursions 
into  the  domain  of  mythology.  In  the  beginning 
it  was  a  simple  parade  of  the  confraternity  of 
vine-growers,  dedicated  to  St  Urban,  which 
went  through  the  streets  of  Veve}^  celebrating 
the  culture  of  the  vine.  Later  on,  the  other 
agricultural  industries  became  entitled  to  a 
place :  Ceres,  then  Pales,  were  joined  with 
Bacchus.  The  highlands,  with  their  goat-herds 
and  flocks,  were  next  brought  in  and  became  the 
most  popular  element  of  the  festival.  Subse- 
quent to  1 79 1,  four  troops  were  organised, 
corresponding  to  the  four  seasons.  Groups  were 
added  to  groups,  the  number  of  characters 
became  imposing.  Thanks  to  a  very  serious 
preparation,  they  have  proved  that  the  Vaudois 
are  capable  of  becoming,  at  a  given  moment, 
an  artistic  people.  The  varied  tableaux  which 
succeed  each  other  in  this  national  epopea — the 
corteges  of  gods  with  their  priests,  shepherds, 
harvesters,  goat-herds,  fauns,  and  bacchantes, 
dances  intervening,  mediaeval  Switzers  bringing 
up  the  rear — have  usually  a  somewhat  incoherent 
effect.  It  is  an  odd  mixture  of  pagan  mythology 
and  Christian  elements,  of  realism  and  con- 
vention.    And   yet   these   tableaux    harmonise 

58 


The  Pays  de  Vaud 

under  the  gaze  of  the  onlooker  ;  as  in  a  Vaudois 
landscape,  a  Roman  monument,  a  feudal 
tower  and  modem  city  are  embraced  in  the  same 
frame  without  producing  any  sense  of  incon- 
gruity." 

Beyond  Vevey,  the  lake  shore  is  embanked 
and  begins  to  merit  the  name  of  the  Swiss 
Riviera.  The  mountains  come  closer  and  closer 
to  the  water,  the  clean,  white  road  is  bordered 
by  a  long  succession  of  villas  with  gardens  and 
balconies  looking  on  the  lake.  Presently  the 
houses  assume  a  more  palatial  aspect,  grandiose 
hotels  line  the  route,  and  perch  on  the  flanks 
of  the  overhanging  mountains.  We  have 
reached  that  long,  irregular  band  of  villages — 
Vemex,  Veytaux,  Clarens,  Territet,  Montreux, 
Chillon — which  goes  by  the  last  name  but  one. 
Montreux  is  pre-eminently  the  resort  of  French 
Switzerland,  and  one  of  the  oldest.  Clarens 
is  indissolubly  associated  with  Rousseau,  who 
wandered  here  dreaming  of  Heloise ;  Chillon 
has  been  immortalised  by  Byron.  For  well 
over  a  century  these  associated  villages  have 
attracted  foreigners  in  search  of  blue  sky,  clear 
waters,  and  noble  prospects.  Montreux  claims 
to  be  a  resort  all  the  year  round,  but  it  is  dull 
and  stuffy  at  the  height  of  summer.  The 
hotels  swarm  then,  as  at  all  times,  with  Russian 
grand  dukes,  but  they  contribute  little  to  the 
entertainment  of  visitors.     There  is  a  casino, 

59 


Switzerland 

of  course,  where  you  may  listen  to  improving 
music,  and  any  number  of  tea-shops  where  you 
get  excellent  pastry  and  thin  tea.  In  the 
calm  days  of  August  and  September  there  is 
little  else  to  do  but  to  sit  on  the  terrace  of  your 
hotel  and  watch  the  play  of  the  light  on  the 
Dent  du  Midi.  The  mountain  encroaches  so 
closely  on  the  lake  that  walks  are  only  possible 
along  the  shore,  and  then  by  a  road  crowded 
with  houses  and  narrowed  by  a  tramway  track. 
Behind  you,  there  are  any  number  of  climbs  and 
scrambles  up  the  mountains  to  Glion,  Caux, 
Les  Avant,  and  the  other  winter  resorts  above 
Montreux. 

In  summer,  in  fact,  there  is  little  to  draw 
strangers  here  except  the  famous  castle  of 
Chillon  jutting  out  into  the  blue  water  on  the 
road  to  Villeneuve.  The  venerable  pile  is  in 
excellent  repair  and  is  visited  by  swarms  of 
tourists,  who  are  kept  severely  in  order  by  an 
elderly  gendarme — one  of  the  few  seen  in  the 
canton.  Most  people  know  something  of  the 
history  of  the  castle  ;  but  the  following  notes 
prepared  at  the  time  of  my  first  visit  may  re- 
fresh the  traveller's  memory. 


60 


)  >      1      •    * 


-  •  .'  •'. 


c 
o 


CHILLON 

Washed  on  all  sides  but  one  by  the  waters  of 
the  lake,  the  castle  of  Chillon  seems  to  carry  the 
natural  fortifications  of  the  mountains  in  one 
unbroken  sweep  down  to  the  very  margin  of 
the  waters,  so  skilful — or  fortunate — was  its 
thirteenth  -  century  architect.  The  present 
fortress  is  invested  for  most  English  visitors 
with  a  romantic  glamour  through  the  genius  of 
Lord  Byron.  But  long  before  the  Gothic  arches 
were  moulded  the  advantages  of  the  site  were 
recognised  by  the  lords  of  the  surrounding 
country.  For  what  could  be  handier  than  the 
lake  whose  waters  lapped  the  castle's  very 
foundations  when  one  had  enemies  to  dispose 
of  ?  Relics  of  the  Bronze  Age  have  been  found 
on  its  rocky  platforms.  There  are  undoubted 
traces  of  a  Roman  edifice,  and  as  early  as  the 
ninth  century  the  records  speak  of  a  massive 
and  gloomy  tower,  built  in  what  was  then  a 
savage  spot  where  nothing  was  visible  but 
"  the  sky,  the  Alps  and  the  Lake  of  Leman." 
Even  this  prospect  was  all  too  often  shut  out 
from  the  wretched  inmates  by  the  thick  walls 
of  the  Carlovingian  stronghold. 
The  history  of  Chillon,  indeed,  is  the  history 

6x 


Switzerland 

of  its  dungeons.  The  first  illustrious  prisoner 
whose  name  the  chronicles  have  preserved  was 
the  Count  Wala,  Abbot  of  Corbie,  the  trusted 
favourite  of  Charlemagne.  Here  in  830  he 
was  shut  up  by  Louis  the  Debonnair,  for  Louis' 
sons  had  been  in  revolt  against  their  father  and 
Wala  was  known  to  be  the  friend  and  counsellor 
of  Lothair,  though  the  unfortunate  man's 
counsels  were  never  followed.  But  his  captivity 
was  neither  very  long  nor  very  irksome.  When 
Lothair  took  the  field  a  second  time  against 
his  father,  Wala  was  hurried  away  to  another 
prison,  farther  removed  from  the  reach  of  the 
rebel.  A  few  years  later  the  cell  of  the  monk 
was  substituted  for  that  of  the  captive,  and  in 
the  monastery  of  Bobbio,  in  Lombardy,  Wala 
passed  out  of  a  turbulent  world. 

In  1254  the  present  castle  was  begun  by  Peter 
of  Savoy,  "  the  little  Charlemagne,"  who  made 
it  his  favourite  residence.     Says  an  old  song  : 

"  Le  vaillant  comte  PieiTe 
Possedait  maint  vallon, 
Et  pour  son  nid  de  pierre, 
Le  manoir  de  Chillon  ; 
Nid  plante  dans  les  ondes 
Dont  les  lames  profondes 
Bercent  le  vieux  chateau 

Sur  I'eau, 
Sur  le  bord  de  I'eau 
Bercent  le  vieux  chateau 
Sur  I'eau." 
62 


Chillon 

But  amid  the  ups  and  downs  of  war  it  happened 
that  Peter  himself  was  once  confined  here  as 
prisoner  with  eighty  of  his  knights  and  barons. 
After  this  the  princes  of  Savoy  lost  their  love 
for  the  watery  fortress  and  Chillon  came  to  be 
.used  only  as  a  State  prison. 

In  the  fourteenth  century  a  pestilence,  a  kind 
I  of  Black  Death,  swept  through  the  neighbouring 
'country  of  Vieux-Chablais.  The  cry  went  up 
amongst  the  Vaudois  that  the  wells  were  poisoned. 
iln  the  Middle  Ages  there  was  but  one  cause 
recognised  for  every  pestilence,  famine  or  sudden 
death  that  devastated  the  land — the  Jews. 
And  so  the  dungeons  of  Chillon  were  filled  to 
overflowing  with  these  unfortunates.  Many 
were  burned  alive  by  order  of  the  judges  of 
Savoy.  But  the  people  accused  their  magis- 
trates of  undue  indulgence  to  the  criminals. 
They  broke  into  the  castle,  and  seizing  on  all 
the  prisoners,  without  regard  to  age  or  sex  or 
any  form  of  law,  hurried  them  pell-mell  to  the 
flames.  The  instigators  of  this  horrible  outrage 
were  punished  with  rewards  and  honours. 

But  it  was  through  the  captivity  of  Frangois 
Bonivard  that  Chillon  became  a  household 
word  in  England.  Byron,  knowing,  as  he  after- 
wards confessed,  nothing  about  his  life,  seized 
on  the  name  of  Bonivard  as  a  peg  on  which  to 
hang  a  panegyric  to  liberty.  "  The  Prisoner 
of  Chillon  "  and  the  fine  sonnet  that  precedes 

63 


Switzerland 

it  are  the  result.  For  there  was  a  strange  super- 
stition abroad  among  the  EngUsh  romantic 
poets  of  the  early  nineteenth  century,  that 
Switzerland,  at  that  time  one  of  the  oppression 
centres  of  Europe,  was  the  very  home  of  freedom. 
Byron  has  left  us  a  striking  picture  of  a 
suffering,  sensitive,  introspective  character,  not 
guiltless  of  his  own  rather  theatrical  personality, 
touched  with  the  mal  du  siecle.  His  prisoner,  a 
heroic  martyr  to  Protestant  convictions,  becomes 
warped  in  body  and  mind  : 

"  My  hair  is  grey,  but  not  with  years 

My  hmbs  are  bowed  though  not  with  toil 
But  rusted  with  a  vile  repose." 

He  is  crushed  in  spirit  by  the  death  of  his  two 
brothers,  whose  captivity  was  but  a  figment  of 
the  poet's  imagination,  designed  to  increase  the 
horror.  The  maddening  monotony  of  his  life 
almost  overbalances  a  delicate  brain,  until,  a 
living  corpse,  he  again  emerges  into  the  world. 

"  It  might  be  months,  or  years  or  days — 

I  kept  no  count,  I  took  no  note — 
I  had  no  hope  my  eyes  to  raise, 

And  clear  them  of  their  dreary  mote  ; 
At  last  men  came  to  set  me  free  ; 

I  asked  not  why,  and  recked  not  where  ; 
It  was  at  length  the  same  to  me 
Fettered  or  fetterless  to  be, 

I  learned  to  love  despair." 
64 


Chill 


on 


With  these  tragic  hnes  beating  in  his  head  the 
traveller  gazes  in  silent  horror  at  the  thick  iron 
rings  let  into  the  pillars  of  the  dungeon,  to  which 
Bonivard  was  chained.  But  the  account  of  the 
prisoner's  sufferings  given  by  history  is  less 
harrowing  than  that  evolved  by  Byron. 

Frangois  indeed  bore  a  brave  part  in  the  fight 
against  Savoy,  and  acquitted  himself  well  to- 
wards his  adopted  town,  Geneva.  But  he  was 
no  high-souled  martyr  burning  with  devotion 
to  religious  liberty.  He  was  a  jolly  man  of  the 
world,  this  Frangois,  hospitable,  a  great  viveur, 
well  seasoned  with  Rabelaisian  gros  sel,  equally 
attracted  by  the  popping  of  the  corks  or  the 
rustle  of  a  petticoat. 

In  his  early  youth  Bonivard  had  been  placed 
under  the  care  of  his  uncle,  Jean-Ame  Bonivard, 
Prior  of  St  Victor,  on  the  outskirts  of  Geneva. 
Here  he  had  followed  his  childish  bent,  growing 
fat  and  learning  much  about  a  naughty  world, 
until  it  was  discovered  that  he  could  not  even 
read  !  Straightway  the  protesting  Frangois  was 
sent  off  to  a  respectable  and  learned  abbot  in 
Piedmont,  where  a  considerable  amount  of 
knowledge  was  forced  into  his  reluctant,  but  by 
no  means  sluggish,  brain.  Thence  he  proceeded 
to  the  university  of  Turin,  and  later  to  Fribourg 
and  Strasburg.  Then  came  news  of  his  uncle's 
death  to  interrupt  his  joyous  life  ;  but  Jean- 
Ame  had  bequeathed  to  his  scapegrace  nephew, 
E  65 


Switzerland 

with  the  Pope's  consent,  the  Abbey  of  St  Victor. 
Frangois  returned  in  high  feather  to  Geneva, 
to  make  merry  with  his  ecclesiastical  revenues, 
though  strenuously  refusing  to  enter  holy  orders. 

At  this  time  there  was  a  strong  patriotic  party 
in  Geneva  plotting  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  Savoy. 
Frangois  threw  himself  wholeheartedly  into 
this  dangerous  game,  boldly  tossing  down  the 
gauntlet  to  Duke  Amadeus.  Along  with  St 
Victor  he  had  inherited  from  his  uncle  the 
manor  of  Cartigny,  and  also  some  old  bronze 
artillery  which  Jean-Ame  had  directed  him 
to  melt  down  and  cast  into  a  peal  of  bells  for  the 
abbey.  But  Bonivard  preferred  to  present  them 
to  his  friends  in  the  city  for  less  peaceful  purposes, 
a  hostile  act  which  Amadeus  never  forgot. 

But  meantime  Geneva  was  beginning  to 
give  ear  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Reformation. 
Francois  embraced  the  theories  with  avidity, 
though  feeling  it  quite  unnecessary  to  square 
his  conduct  with  them.  He  went  to  Rome,  to 
find,  he  said,  "  irrefutable  arguments  "  against 
the  Papacy. 

On  his  return  he  called  together  the  leading 
lights  among  the  reformers,  announcing  that  he 
was  going  to  read  to  them  the  two  books  then 
most  in  favour  with  the  cardinals.  But  alas  ! 
the  favoured  literature  of  Rome  proved  to  be 
in  the  style  approved  by  less  holy  men.  There 
was    consternation    among    that    assembly    of 

66 


Chillon 

Genevan  gowns  and  bands.  Interest  and 
chuckles  of  sensual  delight  fought  hard  with 
pious  horror,  until  there  rose  up  an  austere 
divine,  who  with  righteous  wrath  rebuked  the 
simple  youth.  Then  with  great  dignity  the 
man  of  God  retired,  taking  with  him  the  soberer 
of  his  followers,  and  Francois  finished  up  his 
reading  amid  the  plaudits  of  those  listeners 
who  remained.  "  I  always  knew,"  cried  the 
unrepentant  one,  "  that  in  every  man  there  dwells 
a  swine,  whether  he  be  a  Roman  Catholic  or 
a  Protestant  of  Geneva !  Long  live  human 
nature  !  " 

Now,  the  Church  in  all  her  majesty  swooped 
down  upon  the  abbot  of  St  Victor.  The  Eucharist 
was  forbidden  him  for  two  years,  and  meantime 
he  was  advised  to  quit  Geneva.  After  a  period 
of  adventurous  wanderings  he  returned  to  his 
adopted  city,  only  to  find  that  his  old  revolu- 
tionary comrade,  Berthelier^  had  been  put  to 
death.  He  himself  was  seized  and  forced  by  the 
Duke  of  Savoy  to  resign  his  priory.  For  a  time 
he  was  imprisoned,  but,  on  the  intercession  of 
the  Bishop  of  Geneva,  was  allowed  to  retire  to 
his  manor  of  Cartigny.  Here  he  established 
himself  "  with  six  arquebuses  and  six  pounds  of 
gunpowder  given  to  him  by  the  people  of  Geneva." 
On  his  gate  he  hung  a  warning  to  those  who  might 
dare  to  enter  ;  to  drive  his  moral  home  a  carcass 
creaked  in  chains  on  a  neighbouring  gibbet. 

67 


Switzerland 

But  both  Savoy  and  the  Vatican  were  out- 
raged at  this  independence  ;  a  troop  of  soldiers 
surrounded  the  house,  and  Frangois  was  forced 
to  fly.  Geneva  gave  him  refuge,  but  Amadeus 
sent  him  word  that  outside  its  sheltering  walls 
he  need  expect  no  mercy.  At  this  point  his 
mother  fell  ill,  and  Frangois  courageously  set 
out  to  pay  his  filial  respects.  At  Moudon  he 
fell  into  a  trap,  and  was  taken  prisoner  by  a 
company  of  archers,  who  carried  him  off  to  the 
chateau  of  Chillon. 

Thus  began  his  six  years  of  imprisonment. 
At  first  he  was  comfortably  lodged,  but  when 
the  Duke  came  to  visit  him  Francois  received 
him  with  disrespect.  Raising  his  fingers  to  his 
nose,  he  complained  of  the  smell  of  sulphur  that 
entered  with  his  Highness.  But  the  joke  cost 
him  dear,  for  he  was  straightway  thrown  into 
the  underground  dungeon,  where  the  rest  of  his 
captivity  was  spent. 

Bonivard  seems  to  have  borne  his  imprison- 
ment in  that  philosophical  spirit  with  which  the 
Middle  Ages  were  accustomed  to  regard  these 
small  vicissitudes  of  life.  There  is  actually  a 
pathway  trodden  by  his  footsteps  in  the  dungeon 
floor,  but  while  recognising  the  unvarying  cour- 
age of  the  prisoner,  I  cannot  bring  myself  to 
look  upon  this  prison  as  "  a  holy  place,  and  its 
sad  floor  an  altar." 

When  the  Bernese  troops  swept  triumphantly 

68 


Chill 


on 


through  the  Pays  de  Vaud  in  1536,  they  opened 
the  doors  of  Chillon  to  the  prisoner.  The 
Genevese  received  him  with  open  arms,  took  the 
burden  of  his  poverty  upon  themselves,  made 
him  a  member  of  the  Council  of  State  with  a 
pension  of  two  hundred  crowns  a  year,  and  gave 
him  a  house  to  live  in.  "  Bonivard,"  says  the 
historian,  Jean  Senebier,  "  when  he  left  his 
prison  behind  him,  had  the  pleasure  of  finding 
Geneva  free  and  reformed."  Reformed  the 
city  undoubtedly  was,  too  much  so  for  the  ex- 
Prior  of  St  Victor  ;  but  though  freed  from  the 
domination  of  Savoy,  there  was  little  liberty 
in  the  city  whose  morals  and  manners  Calvin 
regulated. 

Francois'  joyous  past  had  not  been  forgotten 
by  the  burghers.  It  was  specially  laid  down 
that  he  must  lead  a  decent  and  sober  life,  that 
his  children,  if  he  had  any,  must  be  born  in 
wedlock,  that  on  no  account  must  he  take  a 
young  female  to  be  his  housekeeper.  For  the 
reformers,  though  profoundly  ignorant  of  any 
broad  principles  of  morality,  were  fanatically 
devoted  to  the  legal  forms  of  respectability. 
Frangois  submitted  with  a  sigh,  and  married 
Catherine  Baumgartner,  who  took  his  affairs 
thoroughly  in  hand.  She  succeeded  in  getting 
many  privileges  for  her  husband  from  the 
Council,  not  forgetting  "  half  an  ell  of  velvet 

for  a  petticoat  "  as  a  reward  for  her  own  exer- 

69 


Switzerland 

tions.  But  his  matrimonial  affairs  were  a  sore 
trial  both  to  Bonivard  and  to  Geneva.  The  old 
Adam  was  by  no  means  dead  within  him  ;  his 
conduct  after  his  first  wife's  death  soon  brought 
the  heavy  hand  of  the  Council  down  upon  him. 
A  threat  to  lodge  him  in  the  Hotel  de  Ville  under 
the  stern  eye  of  the  holy  men  drove  him  post 
haste  again  into  matrimony. 

Jeanne  d'Armeis  was  his  second  choice,  a 
widow  well  endowed  with  property.  They  did 
not  get  on  well  together,  and  Frangois  was 
summoned  before  the  Council  on  a  charge  of 
beating  her  severely.  He  managed,  however, 
to  persuade  the  judges  that  his  wife  deserved  it — 
never  in  those  days  a  very  difficult  task,  when  the 
whole  duty  of  woman  was  to  obey  her  husband. 
But  Jeanne  followed  her  predecessor  quickly 
to  the  grave,  and  after  the  manner  of  the 
reformers,  Fran9ois  promptly  took  another  wife, 
also  blessed  with  property.  For  twelve  years 
she  ministered  to  him  as  a  good  wife  should,  and 
then  died,  and  her  money  passed  to  her  son  by  a 
former  marrage. 

Frangois  felt  aggrieved,  and  received  into  his 
house  Catherine  de  Courtavonne,  a  nun  who  had 
been  driven  from  her  convent  by  the  Reformation, 
and  with  her  a  soi-disant  cousin.  Catherine's 
manners  had  lost  the  austerity  of  monastic  life, 
and  the  house  of  Bonivard  soon  became  the  one 
spot   where   the   sternly   repressed   mirth    and 

70 


Chillon 

gaiety  of  Geneva  could  overflow.  Unfortun- 
ately these  goings-on  could  not  be  hidden. 
The  genial  host  was  rebuked  sternly  by  the  city 
magnates,  and  threats  of  dire  penalties  were 
levelled  at  him,  unless  he  should  instantly 
sanctify  his  relationship  with  Catherine  by 
presenting  her  with  a  wedding  ring. 

The  old  man  grumbled,  but  gave  in.  Much 
to  the  astonishment  of  pious  Geneva,  the 
marriage  ceremony  did  not  put  a  stop  to  the 
joyous  gatherings  at  his  house.  It  was  hardly 
to  be  expected  that  Frangois  could  refrain  from 
satirising  these  unco  guid.  One  night,  under 
the  influence  of  the  good  Rhine  wine,  he  rashly 
recited  a  scandalous  chorus  he  had  composed 
about  "  ces  messieurs  de  Geneve."  It  was 
enthusiastically  received  by  his  guests,  who  all 
took  up  the  refrain.  As  they  reeled  homewards 
that  night,  they  made  the  streets  of  Calvin's  city 
ring  with  its  ribald  measures. 

The  excited  diners  were  taken  into  custody, 
and  a  strict  examination  was  made  into  the 
domestic  affairs  of  M.  de  St  Victor.  The 
comedy  quicldy  turned  to  tragedy.  Catherine 
de  Courtavonne  was  accused  of  infidelity  to  her 
husband,  and  was  brought  to  trial.  Frangois 
did  all  he  could  to  save  her,  swearing  that 
never  had  she  given  him  reason  for  suspicion. 
"  Ces  messieurs  "  knew  better.  The  Reforma- 
tion had  unloosed  some  of  the  most  hideous 

71 


Switzerland 

passions  of  mankind.  To  these  Catherine  fell  a 
victim. 

Her  cousin,  who  was  said  to  be  her  paramour, 
was  beheaded.  Catherine  was  tied  up  in  a  sack, 
and  thrown  into  the  Rhone. 

Such  were  the  gentle  and  most  Christian 
customs  of  the  Reformed  or  Protestant  Church 
of  Geneva. 

Bonivard  did  not  live  long  after  this  horrible 
murder.  In  1570  he  died  childless,  murmuring 
with  his  latest  breath  against  the  oppressors 
of  his  adopted  city.  But  notwithstanding,  he 
made  the  republic  his  heir,  leaving  all  his  books 
and  manuscripts  to  form  the  nucleus  of  a  public 
library.  His  beautiful  fifteenth-century  editions 
can  still  be  seen  at  Geneva.  "  He  loved  know- 
ledge," says  Senebier,  "  and  did  all  he  could 
to  give  it  a  home  in  this  rising  city."  Freedom 
he  loved  as  v/ell,  but,  delivering  his  city  from 
one  tyranny,  he  unwittingly  handed  it  over  to 
another  far  more  intimate  and  oppressive. 


72 


1     »  :  • 


IN    ARCADIA 

Amid  the  clangour  and  fuss  of  the  tourist  whirl 
you  may  listen  in  vain  for  the  melody  which  has 
charmed  the  Switzer  out  of  the  ranks  of  foreign 
armies  and  haunts  the  ears  of  the  opulent  hotel 
director  in  London  and  Paris.  The  "  Ranz  des 
Vaches  "  is  rarely  heard  near  the  great  tourist 
centres.  It  will  greet  you  with  every  sunset  on 
the  lush  green  uplands  which  overlook  the 
Sarine  and  the  Broye.  There  the  herdsman 
still  melodiously  calls  the  cattle  home,  and  there 
you  still  expect  to  find  Phyllis  flirting  with 
Corydon  in  costumes  designed  by  Watteau.  If 
Little  Bo-peep  has  not  yet  found  her  sheep,  the 
canton  Fribourg,  most  of  all  the  Gru3^ere  dis- 
trict, is  the  place  to  look  for  them. 

The  valley  famed  all  the  world  over  for  its 
cheese  is  the  Switzerland  of  romance,  not  the 
Switzerland  of  the  climber  and  the  artist.  The 
snowclad  mountains  charm  but  do  not  overawe. 
They  rise  as  a  benign  background  to  the  light 
green  of  the  meadows  and  the  dark  green  of  the 
pines  ;  they  are  seen  at  the  ends  of  groves  made 
for  lovers'  dalliance  ;  and  the  chalets  on  their 
verdant  slopes  are  ideal  nests  for  pastoral 
mates.     Here  we  are  in  Arcadia,  and  here  the 

73 


Switzerland 

traditions  of  that  happy  land  have  Hngered 
longest. 

The  region,  it  need  not  be  said,  was  not  named 
after  its  most  renowned  and  esteemed  product. 
Old  chroniclers  averred  that  Gruyerius  was  the 
chief  of  the  band  of  Vandals  who  first  settled 
in  the  lower  valley,  or  else  that  this  band  had 
adopted  as  its  device  that  wandering  bird,  the 
crane.  From  grue  to  Gruyere  the  transition  is 
easy — easier  than  from  Vandals  to  Arcadians. 
For  a  long  time  these  barbarians  never  ventured 
to  penetrate  into  the  upper  valley,  which  was 
closed  against  them  by  a  formidable  barrier  of 
rock  and  guarded,  as  they  believed,  by  a  frightful 
demon.  At  last,  while  hunting  the  bear,  an 
intrepid  youth  scaled  the  mountain-wall  and 
gazed  for  the  first  time  on  the  green  pastures  of 
the  upper  Gruyere,  into  which  he  led  his  com- 
rades, rejoicing  exceedingly. 

So  the  whole  region  became  peopled,  and,  like 
the  rest  of  what  is  now  Switzerland,  it  became 
part  of  the  Burgundian  kingdom.  In  the  tenth 
century  it  was  known  as  Ogo,  a  contraction 
probably  of  the  German  Hochgau,  and  Turim- 
bert  founded  the  line  of  counts,  to  whom  the 
shepherds  and  shepherdesses,  the  cheese-makers 
and  the  cowherds,  looked  for  six  centuries  for 
guidance.  These  paternal  sovereigns  dwelt  in 
the  high-peaked  castle  which  surmounts  the 
little  town  of  Gruyeres.     You  climb  up  to  it  by 

74 


In   Arcadia 

la  steep  and  toilsome  path  known  as  the  Charriere 
des  Morts,  possibly  because  of  the  ghastly 
crucifix,  with  gaping  red  wounds,  which  greets 
your  eyes  at  the  town  gate.  Restored  and  re- 
built heaven  knows  how  many  times,  the  castle 
to-day  looks  much  as  it  must  have  looked  in  its 
prime,  thanks  to  the  loving  care  of  its  present 
owner  and  his  immediate  predecessor.  It  was 
at  one  time  the  property  of  a  M.  Bovy  of  Geneva, 
whose  brother,  Daniel,  an  artist  of  repute,  has 
recorded  the  history  of  the  Gruyere  in  fine 
vigorous  fashion  on  the  walls  of  the  hall  of 
honour.  There  you  may  see  the  coming  of 
Gruyerius  into  the  valley,  and  next  the  departure 
of  the  men  of  Gruyere  for  the  crusade,  headed 
by  the  knights,  Hugues  and  Turnius  :  they  give 
their  lands  to  the  Abbey  of  Rougemont,  and 
crying :  "  S'agit  d'aller !  reviendra  qui  pourra !  " 
they  leave  the  castle  and  the  drawbridge  is 
drawn  up  behind  them.  Turnius  and  Hugues, 
it  need  not  be  said,  proved  themselves  the 
bravest  knights  in  the  Christian  host.  Not  less 
remarkable  were  the  feats  of  the  counts  who 
stayed  behind,  one  of  whom  is  shown  delivering 
a  beautiful  stranger  from  a  long  captivity  upon 
the  taking  of  the  town  of  Rue.  Nor  does  the 
painter  leave  uncommemorated  the  valour  of 
those  heroic  shepherds,  Clarimbert  and  Ulric 
Bras-de-fer,  who  drag  the  count  from  the  midst 
of  a  horde  of  enemies,  and  hold  the  pass  against 

75 


Switzerland 

him  for  many  hours,  till  their  great  swords 
become  literally  glued  to  their  horny  hands 
with  blood.  They  were  terrible  fellows,  these 
Gruyeriens,  and  worthy  of  them  were  their 
wives,  who,  being  left  alone  and  attacked  by  the 
Bernese,  put  them  to  flight  by  driving  against 
them  a  flock  of  goats  with  flaming  torches  stuck 
on  their  horns  !  In  this  heroic  manner  did  the 
counts  and  people  of  Gruyere  maintain  their 
liberties  against  the  powerful  republics  of 
Fribourg  and  Berne. 

But  it  was  in  the  arts  of  peace  that  the 
counts  most  excelled,  surpassing  indeed  all  their 
contemporaries  in  their  knowledge  of  the  gay 
saber.  They  did  everything  they  could  to  make 
themselves  and  their  subjects  happy.  In  dance 
and  song  they  delighted.  One  Sunday  good 
Count  Rodolphe  and  five  courtiers  took  hands 
and  started  to  dance  on  the  castle  terrace. 
Presently  they  danced  down  into  the  town. 
The  lads  and  lasses  came  out  and  joined  hands 
with  them.  Away  they  went,  dancing  all 
through  the  summer  night  over  hill  and  dale 
and  meadow.  The  cowherds  left  their  oxen 
and  followed,  the  goats  skipped  after  the  dancers. 
The  Count  was  well-nigh  exhausted,  but  he 
would  not  give  in.  He  was,  as  we  should  say, 
a  sportsman.  At  last,  on  Tuesday  morning, 
seven    hundred    dancers    collapsed,    completely 

blown,  in  the  market-place  of  Gessenay,  having 

76 


In  Arcadia 

traversed  the  whole  long  valley  from  end  to  end. 
IThose  were  days  when  folk  could  dance  indeed. 

Then  came  the  joyous  days  of  Count  Antoine, 
who  would  lead  the  "  Ranz  des  Vaches "  and 
could  pipe  against  any  of  his  lusty  cowherds 
and  sprightly  milkmaids.  He  it  was  who  held  a 
great  picnic  on  the  bank  of  the  lac  d'Arnon,  and 
feasted  the  swains  on  twenty  chamois  and  a 
thousand  cheeses.  But  alas  !  a  storm  came  on 
and  all  the  tents  were  overset.  Cory  don  and 
Phyllis  were  drenched  to  the  skin,  and  the 
jovial  Count  was  well-nigh  drowned  while 
swimming  the  torrent  of  the  Tourneresse. 

Nor  did  these  good  counts  neglect  the  more 
serious  duties  of  their  station.  Thev  traversed 
the  country,  sometimes  on  foot,  settling  disputes 
under  the  greenwood  tree,  dowering  poor  maidens 
and  otherwise  consoling  them,  reconciling  lovers, 
and  showering  gold  and  silver  on  all  who  came 
their  way.  So  at  least  Count  Pierre  III.  was 
assured  that  his  ancestors  behaved  by  his  wise 
fool,  Girard  Chalamala,  who  was  a  living 
archive  of  the  little  state.  You  may  see  his 
strange-looking  house  outside  the  castle,  dis- 
tinguished by  frightful  gargoyles.  It  was  ac- 
quired, to  save  it  from  destruction,  by  M.  Victor 
Tissot,  the  author  of  "  La  Suisse  Inconnue."  On 
its  walls  may  be  read  some  of  the  fool's  sayings, 
such  as  "  The  secret  of  little  souls  is  known  only 
to  little  souls,"  which  sounds  profound.     Here 

77 


Switzerland 

the  jester  used  to  hold  his  courts  of  folly,  to 
which  his  master  was  admitted  on  condition 
that  he  removed  his  spurs.  This  precaution  was 
necessary,  for  his  lordship  had  cruelly  kicked 
his  fool  when,  on  being  asked  what  he  thought 
of  the  new  countess,  he  answered :  "If  I  were 
lord  of  Gruyeres  I  would  rather  keep  my  pretty 
mistress  than  marry  an  ugly  wife."  Chalamala 
also  exerted  himself  to  keep  alive  the  chateau 
d'amour  tourneys,  in  wliich  a  wooden  castle 
was  vigorously  defended  and  attacked  by  bands 
of  young  men.  In  after  years  the  castle  of  love 
was  garrisoned  by  the  prettiest  girls  of  the  town 
— at  Fribourg  at  least — and  was  attacked  by 
youths  armed  with  garlands  and  nosegays.  The 
fortress  always  surrendered  on  terms,  which  were 
that  every  damsel  should  give  one  of  the  be- 
siegers a  kiss.  My  authority  for  the  existence 
of  this  custom  —  the  "  Conservateur  suisse  " 
published  at  Tausanne  in  1814 — asserts,  to  the 
immense  relief  of  us  moderns,  that  these  pro- 
ceedings were  conducted  with  the  utmost  seemli- 
ness  and  always  in  presence  of  the  fathers, 
mothers,  and  as  many  maiden  aunts  as  could  be 
got  together. 

The  wise  Chalamala  died  in  1349,  leaving  his 
friend,  the  parson  of  Gruyeres,  fifteen  sous  to  buy 
a  cow  with,  and  to  the  Count,  his  master,  his  cap 
and  bells  and  all  his  debts.  The  annals  he  had 
collected   of   the   history   of   the   county   were 

78 


In  Arcadia 

stored  in  the  castle,  but  were  unluckily  de- 
stroyed by  fire. 

You  may  see  a  copy  of  his  will  hung  on  the 
castle  walls,  and  you  are  also  shown  the  chamber 
of  Luce  d'Albergeuse,  the  loveliest  shepherdess 
in  the  country,  whom  the  last  count  but  one 
made  his  mistress  at  the  cost  of  the  finest 
mountain  in  his  realm.  Near  Montsalvens  they 
point  out  a  path  called  the  charriere  de  creve 
cceur,  because  along  it,  they  say,  the  countess, 
with  a  breaking  heart,  saw  her  husband  ride 
in  quest  of  his  leman.  I  doubt  very  much  if 
high-born  dames  in  those  days  were  much 
troubled  by  their  lord's  wandering  fancies. 
They  married  for  place  and  power,  and  there 
could  have  been  little  pretence  of  love  on  either 
side.  Their  vanity  may  have  been  hurt,  not 
their  heart.  It  is  the  forsaken  mistress  that  I 
pity,  who,  after  having  ruled  for  years  practically 
as  queen,  found  herself  suddenly  hustled  out  of 
sight  or  even  sometimes  compelled  to  bow  before 
her  lover's  new  bride.  I  cannot  see  why  a 
woman  who  marries  from  worldly  gain  should 
grumble  if  her  husband,  having  fulfilled  his 
bargain,  chooses  to  bestow  his  affections  else- 
where. 

But  the  joyous  life  of  the  counts  of  Gruyeres 
could  not  last  for  ever.  They  danced  away  the 
shoes  off  their  feet  and  the  clothes  off  their  back. 
They  literally  sold  portions  of  their  patrimony 

79 


Switzerland 

for  a  song.  And  they  had  taught  their  people 
to  dance  and  sing  all  day,  not  to  amass  wealth  on 
which  taxes  could  be  levied.  The  merchants  of 
Berne  and  Fribourg  were  always  ready  to  lend 
the  Arcadians  money,  and  these  light-hearted 
folk  never  asked  themselves  how  it  was  to  be 
paid  back.  The  counts  skipped  about  like  kids 
and  frolicked  with  their  subjects,  but  often 
returned  home  to  find  their  creditors  awaiting 
them  with  a  bill  us  long  as  their  coraule.  Michel, 
who  became  count  in  1539,  speedily  found  him- 
self bankrupt.  He  had  passed  his  youth  at  the 
Court  of  Frangois  Premier,  where  he  had  con- 
tracted expensive  tastes,  which  he  was  unable  to 
curb. 

In  the  ballads  of  the  Gruyere  he  is  hailed  as  : 

"  Michel  li  preux,  li  beaux, 
Fleur  de  tous  aulters  damoiseaux." 

He  was  in  reality  a  futile  sort  of  person,  re- 
markable only  for  the  magnitude  of  his  debts. 
He  was  first  neither  in  the  dance  nor  the  field. 
He  worked  hard  for  the  King  of  France  but 
achieved  no  particular  distinction  in  his  service  ; 
and  the  4000  men  he  sent  to  fight  for  his  Majesty 
at  Ceresole  fled  from  the  field  like  their  name- 
sakes, the  cranes.  Nor  did  he  show  to  much 
advantage  in  his  relations  with  a  Polish  prince, 
Frederick,  Duke  of  Liegnitz.  This  potentate,  a 
bankrupt  like  the  Count,  paid  a  visit  to  Switzer- 

80 


In  Arcadia 

land  to  escape  his  creditors  and  quartered  him- 
self at  the  castle  of  Gruyeres.  He  persuaded 
Michel  to  lend  him  2000  crowns,  which  his 
unfortunate  host  had  to  borrow,  and  went  off  to 
spend  them  at  Fribourg.  Hearing  that  he  was 
living  in  great  style,  the  Count  followed  him  and 
presented  him  with  a  bill  not  only  for  the  money 
lent  but  for  the  cost  of  his  entertainment.  The 
Duke  tartly  replied  that  he  would  refund  the 
loan,  but  certainly  not  the  cost  of  his  board  and 
lodging  at  Gruyeres.  Had  he  known  that  the 
Count  carried  on  business  as  an  innkeeper  he 
would  have  gone  elsewhere.  All  the  same,  the 
tribunal  of  Fribourg  ordered  him  to  pay  the 
full  amount  claimed.  As  he  had  not  a  crown  in 
his  pocket,  he  had  to  leave  his  jewels  as  security, 
and  these  Michel  had  to  share  with  the  inn- 
keeper who  had  accommodated  the  Duke  at 
Fribourg.  The  unfortunate  Count  now  owed 
not  less  than  a  million  and  a  half  francs  of  our 
money.  He  married  a  rich  widow  of  Burgundy , 
who  placed  her  fortune  at  his  disposal,  but  this 
proved  to  be  a  mere  drop  in  the  ocean  of  his 
debts.  He  borrowed  right  and  left,  sinking 
ever  deeper  into  the  mire.  As  a  last  resource, 
he  appealed  to  his  subjects  to  take  upon  them- 
selves all  his  liabilities,  offering  in  return  to  make 
them  free  sovereign  burgesses  like  those  of  the 
forest   cantons.      The   Arcadians  were  not   too 

simple   to   refuse.     Finally,   on   9th   November 
F  81 


Switzerland 

1554,  the  commission  appointed  by  the  cantons 
to  Hquidate  the  Count's  affairs  adjudged  his 
dominions  to  his  creditors  and  released  his 
subjects  from  their  allegiance.  On  the  same 
day  the  last  Count  of  Gruyeres  and  his  wife 
quitted  his  ancestral  castle  for  ever,  and  the 
little  state,  having  endured  under  one  dynasty 
six  hundred  years,  was  divided  between  the 
towns  of  Fribourg  and  Berne. 

Michel,  heartlessly  abandoning  his  natural 
daughter,  Guillauma,  in  the  castle  of  Oron, 
passed  into  the  service  of  France.  He  made 
vain  efforts  to  recover  his  county  through  the 
mediation  of  the  kings  of  France  and  Spain, 
and  died  in  the  Netherlands  in  the  year  1576. 
Such  was  the  unromantic  end — sold  up  by 
brokers  ! — of  the  race  which  resembled  most 
closely  the  princes  of  old  romance.  Idylls 
in  real  life  often  do  finish  like  that. 

The  castle,  at  any  rate,  has  recovered  much 
of  its  former  glory,  and  is  probably  much  better 
kept  and  furnished  than  it  was  in  the  days  of 
the  counts.  Besides  the  frescoes  by  Bovy,  you 
may  see  panels  painted  by  his  friends  Corot, 
Baron,  Salzmann,  and  other  modern  masters, 
while  his  guests  at  the  castle.  You  will  enjoy 
most  the  glimpses  of  mountain  and  valley  from 
the  loops  in  the  thick  walls  ;  and  feel  something 
of  that  exhilaration  which  caused  count  and  cow- 
herd to  take  hands  and  dance  awa 

82 


THE    VALAIS 

The  Valais  is  the  Cinderella  of  the  cantons. 
A  long,  narrow  trench,  excavated  by  the  Rhone 
and  its  parent  glaciers,  it  is  completely  shut 
out  from  the  rest  of  the  world  by  gigantic 
mountain- walls,  which  approach  so  closely  to- 
wards the  bend  in  the  river  as  almost  to  forbid 
egress.  Such  a  cul-de-sac  seems  to  have  been 
designed  as  a  refuge  for  the  unfitted  to  survive ; 
and  indeed  Hans  Andersen's  chamois  hunter 
described  it  as  having  been  a  bagful  of  cretins 
and  hot  air.  Then,  he  told  little  Rudy,  the 
French  came  and  made  a  hole  at  each  end  of 
the  bag,  killed  all  the  cretins,  and  let  in  the  air. 
Since  then  a  real  hole  has  been  made  through  the 
Simplon  mountain,  and  another  is  being  pierced 
in  the  Lotschberg  to  the  north  of  it.  So  the  four 
winds  of  heaven  blow  now  through  the  valley, 
and  the  cretins  have  had  no  choice  but  to  slink  up 
the  lateral  slopes.  Along  the  furrow  of  the  Rhone 
rush  trains  from  Paris  to  Milan  and  Brindisi,  soon 
to  be  met  near  Brieg  by  the  expresses  from  Berne 
and  Germany  and  the  far  north.  The  Valais, 
so  closed  in  that  we  marvel  that  its  existence 
should  have  been  suspected  by  the  ancients, 
has  now  become  a  great  international  highway. 

83 


Switzerland 

It  is  a  country  of  contrasts,  this  Swiss  canton. 
Ice  and  snow  permanently  cover  a  larger  pro- 
portion of  ground  here  than  in  any  other  of  the 
confederate  states.  Nowhere  else  in  Switzer- 
land do  the  mountains  soar  so  high,  or  is  Nature 
more  majestic  and  terrible  in  her  frown.  The 
Matterhorn  and  Monte  Rosa  delight  the  most 
venturesome  mountaineers,  and  between  these 
peaks  lane-like  valleys  run  headlong  down 
through  a  score  of  climates  to  the  Rhone,  where 
little  white  cities  sit  embowered  in  orchards  and 
vineyards,  scorching  beneath  an  African  sky. 
In  the  canton  Valais  the  camel  and  the  reindeer 
might  each  find  a  home. 

Its  isolation  notwithstanding,  the  region  has 
from  time  immemorial  been  the  battleground  of 
contending  races,  of  Latin  and  Celt,  Romance 
against  Teutonic.  The  skeletons  of  castles 
which  gleam  white  on  the  hillocks  by  the  Rhone 
are  mementoes  of  the  long  struggle  between 
barons  and  people,  feudal  lord  and  chartered 
town,  which  was  the  Pax  Romana  of  the  bastard 
Empire.  Conquered  by  the  legionaries  after  a 
great  fight  at  Octodura  or  Martigny,  fifty-seven 
years  before  Christ,  the  people  of  the  valley  be- 
came so  Romai  ised  as  to  lose  all  traces  of  their 
Celtic  origin.  Succeeding  waves  of  barbarians 
left  little  pools  behind  them,  which  also  became 
absorbed  in  the  Latin  stream.  Meanwhile  a 
bishop  arose  at  Sion,  and  to  him  Rodolphe  III., 

84 


>  •        V  »  > 


.St 


C 

o 
(0 


The  Valais 

last  king  of  the  second  Burgundy,  granted 
sovereign  rights  over  the  valley  from  the 
Furka  down  to  the  Trient.  This  was  in  the  year 
999,  and  for  seven  hundred  years  the  country 
was  involved  in  the  hopeless,  bloody  tangle  of 
the  mediaeval  political  structure.  Jurisdiction 
overlapped  jurisdiction,  there  were  lords 
spiritual  and  lords  temporal,  towns  free,  towns 
half-free,  towns  subject ;  barons  who  held  of 
the  emperor,  barons  who  held  of  the  bishop, 
barons  who  held  of  both ;  freemen,  serfs,  ec- 
clesiastics ;  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men, 
owning  each  half-a-dozen  masters.  No  wonder 
that  the  race  withered,  that  disease  flourished, 
that  rapine  and  murder  ran  riot,  where  no  man 
knew  whose  business  it  was  to  govern  or  where 
he  might  call  the  land  his  own. 

In  the  thirteenth  century  a  band  of  Germans 
from  the  Hasli  valley  near  Meiringen  crossed 
the  Grimsel  and  settled  on  the  upper  reaches  of 
the  Rhone.  About  the  same  time  we  first  hear 
of  the  seven  dizains  or  communes  which  the 
bishop  had  endowed  with  certain  liberties. 
These  were  Sion,  Sierre,  Leuk,  Visp,  Raron, 
Brieg,  and  Conches.  All  but  the  two  first  of 
them  became  thoroughly  Germanised  by  the 
settlers,  which  was  perhaps  why  the  Emperor 
Charles  IV.  was  persuaded  in  the  year  1354  to 
confirm  their  charters  and  to  forbid  the  Count 
of  Savoy  to  interfere  with  them.     In  defiance 

85 


Switzerland 

of  the  Imperial  injunction,  upon  the  murder  of 
Bishop  Tavelh  in  1375,  Count  Amadeus  VI. 
promptly  installed  his  cousin,  Edouard  of  Belley, 
in  the  vacant  see.  The  communes,  however, 
would  have  none  of  the  new  prelate  and  drove 
him  out  of  Sion.  Thenceforward  there  was 
open  war  between  the  men  of  the  dizains  and 
their  neighbour  from  over  the  Alps.  The  Ger- 
mans of  the  upper  Valais  inflicted  a  severe 
defeat  on  the  Count's  lieutenant  and  his  allies  in 
the  country  itself,  but  the  Latins  of  Sion  and 
Sierre  had  to  ask  mercy  of  the  Count  upon  their 
knees.  In  the  end  Savoy  was  left  in  possession 
of  all  the  territory  below  the  Trient.  Checked 
in  this  direction,  the  men  of  the  upper  communes 
allied  themselves  with  the  forest  cantons,  and 
occupied  themselves  with  expeditions  into  the 
valley  of  Ossola.  They  again  met  with  a  re- 
verse, and  in  their  rage  and  disappointment 
looked  round  for  a  weaker  foe.  They  found  one 
in  an  ally  of  the  hated  Savoy,  the  lord  of  Raron, 
a  noble  who  had  already  offended  the  people  by 
his  insistence  upon  the  elementary  laws  of 
sanitation.  This  early  municipal  reformer  was 
condemned  in  a  popular  assembly  near  Brieg 
by  a  process  peculiar  to  the  Valais.  A  man 
stood  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd  holding  the 
Mazze,  a  huge  club  on  which  was  carved  the  rude 
likeness  of  a  human  face  in  deep  affliction. 
The  grotesque  image  was  questioned  as  to  the 

86 


The  Valais 

author  of  his  woes.  "Is  it  Sihnen  ?  Is  it 
AsperHn  ?  "  The  Mazze  was  silent.  "Is  it 
Raron  ?  "  The  image  bowed  its  head.  There- 
upon the  men  present  raised  their  arms  to 
signify  adhesion  to  the  cause  of  the  wronged, 
and  each  drove  a  nail  into  the  symbolical 
victim's  body  in  testimony  of  their  sympathy — 
which  seems  an  odd  way  of  expressing  it.  Thus 
adorned,  the  Mazze  was  carried  round  like  a  fiery 
cross  ;  wherever  it  appeared  the  people  took  up 
arms.  Before  the  righteous  wrath  of  the  un- 
washed, the  hygienist  of  Raron  fled  in  dismay. 
The  men  of  the  dizains  wrecked  his  castles  and 
those  of  his  allies.  Upon  the  intervention  of 
Berne,  the  communes  made  good  the  damage 
they  had  done,  but  the  nobles  were  only  suffered 
to  return  upon  relinquishing  all  their  feudal 
claims.  After  this,  I  presume,  the  worthy 
townsfolk  were  free  to  build  dung-heaps  in  the 
open  street  and  no  one  had  to  wash  his  face  more 
than  once  a  year. 

Having  thus  crushed  the  nobles  and  vindicated 
the  rights  of  the  dirty,  the  Germans  of  the 
Valais  in  1457  scored  a  final  victory  over  their 
Latin  compatriots  by  getting  one  of  their 
number,  Walther  Supersaxo,  elected  bishop. 
They  next  allied  themselves  with  Berne,  and, 
finding  that  the  Count  of  Savoy  was  leagued 
with  Charles  the  Bold  against  their  ally,  over- 
ran the  lower  Valais  and  held  it  by  right  of 

87 


Switzerland 

sword.     Savoy  never  recovered  her  hold  on  the 
valley. 

Switzerland  is  the  land  of  strange  aristo- 
cracies. So  far  from  regarding  themselves  as 
the  liberators  of  the  people  downstream,  the 
people  upstream  regarded  them  as  their  sub- 
jects and  deemed  themselves  their  lords.  Out- 
wardly it  was  merely  the  ridiculous  supremacy 
of  one  group  of  hamlets  over  another  ;  in  reality 
it  was  the  domination  of  German  over  Latin- 
Celt  and  of  the  men  who  had  always  held  their 
own  over  the  men  who  had  not.  As  in  Vaud, 
the  Latins  had  good  reason  to  regret  the  change 
of  masters.  In  15 12  the  little  state,  thus 
aggrandised,  took  part  in  the  Milanese  war,  and 
was  henceforward  reckoned  an  ally  of  the  Swiss 
confederates.  Her  weight  was  always  thrown 
on  the  side  of  the  Catholic  cantons,  but  the 
Protestants  were  numerous  enough  to  secure 
toleration.  Combining  with  these  dissenters, 
the  democrats  of  the  dizains  in  1613  wrung  from 
the  chapter  of  the  vacant  see  a  renunciation  of 
all  the  bishop's  temporal  powers  over  the  valley. 
Soon  after,  Antoine  Stockalper,  a  member  of  one 
of  the  most  famous  families  in  the  region,  was 
detected  in  a  conspiracy  to  restore  the  Episcopal 
authority.  He  was  tortured  and  beheaded  at 
Leuk.  But  no  gratitude  was  shown  to  the  Pro- 
testants, who  had  a  hard  fight  to  preserve  their 
liberties  down  to  the  approach  of  the  Revolution. 

88 


The  Valais 

As  in  Vaud,  so  in  Valais.  Upon  the  news  of 
what  was  passing  in  France,  the  downtrodden 
peasantry  of  the  lower  valley  rose  against  the 
bailiffs  set  over  them  by  the  seven  dizains.  They 
were  subdued  and  cruelly  punished.  But  when 
the  French  army  appeared  on  the  frontiers  of 
Vaud,  the  village  oligarchy  thought  conciliation 
the  wiser  policy.  In  the  cathedral  of  Sion  they 
solemnly  renounced  all  claims  to  supremacy 
over  their  countrymen  in  the  lower  Valais,  and 
declared  them  admitted  to  equal  political  rights. 
They  might  have  spared  themselves  this  ser- 
render,  for  presently  the  whole  Valais  was 
annexed  to  the  Frenchified  Helvetic  confedera- 
tion. The  men  of  the  seven  dizains  sullenly 
acquiesced.  The  moment  the  gjQgian  bayonets 
gleamed  on  the  Simplon  they  threw  off  the 
mask,  and  attacked  the  French  with  unex- 
ampled fury.  Having  taken  an  officer  prisoner, 
they  buried  him  up  to  the  waist  and  stoned  him 
to  death.  The  French  took  a  fearful  revenge. 
They  fell  upon  these  savages  by  night,  and  cut 
them  to  pieces ;  they  drove  their  Muscovite 
allies  helter-skelter  over  the  Alps  and  ravaged 
the  valley  from  Sion  to  the  Furka. 

Unluckily  for  the  reactionaries  of  the  Valais, 

Napoleon  had  perceived  that  the  shortest  road 

into    Italy   lay   through   their   country.     With 

scowls    and   inward    apprehension,    the    village 

tyrants  beheld  the  emissaries  of  civilisation  at 

89 


Switzerland 

work,  making  roads,  bridging  streams,  levelling 
rocks,  and  finally  ringing  round  the  Simplon 
itself  with  a  broad  highroad — fit  for  cannon — 
into  Italy.  The  conquest  of  their  valley,  the 
greybeards  groaned,  was  now  for  ever  accom- 
plished. The  armies  of  Europe  could  march 
at  will  up  and  down  the  Rhone  ;  worse  still,  they 
might  be  followed  by  pestilent  ideas  of  freedom 
and  fraternity. 

In  1802  Napoleon,  to  remove  his  road  from 
the  control  of  the  Helvetic  confederation,  sud- 
denly erected  Valais  into  the  Rhodanic  Republic. 
In  18 10  as  abruptly  he  declared  this  ephemeral 
state  a  part  of  the  French  empire  under  the 
name  of  Department  of  the  Simplon.  We  can 
imagine  with  what  joy  the  Germans  of  the  seven 
dizains,  yearning  for  the  Egyptian  night,  wel- 
comed the  Austrian  invaders  three  years  later. 
True,  they  had  to  join  the  reorganised  con- 
federation ;  but  they  took  care  in  framing  their 
cantonal  constitution  to  secure  the  ascendancy 
of  the  upper  valley  over  the  much  more  popu- 
lous lower.  Nowhere  were  aristocratic  privileges 
more  tenaciously  maintained  than  in  Switzer- 
land, possibly  because  they  represented  in  so 
many  cases  the  tradition  of  the  sword.  For 
over  thirty  years  the  little  country  was  torn 
between  the  Conservative  and  Liberal  factors, 
representing  roughly  the  German  and  French 
elements  of  the  population.     In  1839  there  was 

90 


The  Valais 

open  war  in  the  valley.  There  was  a  Liberal 
Government  at  Sion,  a  reactionary  Government 
at  Sierre.  The  former  defeated  the  latter  in  a 
pitched  battle  at  Bramois.  Thinking  them- 
selves betrayed  by  their  commander,  De  Courten, 
the  losers  murdered  his  aged  brother  in  his  own 
house.  A  savage  streak  ran  ever  through  these 
men  of  the  upper  glaciers.  In  1844  they  turned 
the  tables  on  their  opponents  and  defeate  1 
them  with  considerable  bloodshed  at  Trient. 
Having  secured  control  of  the  canton,  they 
carried  it  into  the  Sonderbund,  and  shared  the 
overthrow  of  that  ill-fated  combination.  Even 
when  the  other  Catholic  cantons  had  laid  down 
their  arms,  Valais,  in  her  wolfish,  stubborn  way, 
meditated  resistance ;  but  wisdom  prevailed 
over  ferocity,  and  her  council  by  a  narrow 
majority  decided  on  submission  to  the  central 
power. 

Since  the  triumphant  entry  of  the  federal 
troops,  Sion  has  become  the  seat  of  an  in- 
tensely Liberal  Government,  but,  half-feudal, 
half-rustic,  still  bears  on  her  physiognomy  the 
impress  of  her  past.  High  over  the  town,  the 
bishop's  castle  of  Tourbillon  mounts  guard  over 
the  valley  ;  southward,  you  may  climb  up  to  the 
better-preserved  stronghold  of  Valeria,  enshrin- 
ing the  ancient  chapel  of  St  Catharine,  and 
thence  look  down  on  a  third  castle,  that  of 
Majoria,  first  inhabited  by  the  town  major  or 

91 


/ 


Switzerland 


governor,  then  by  the  bishop  when  he  lost  his 
temporal  power.  The  actual  residence  of  his 
lordship  adjoins  the  cathedral,  a  rather  pleasing 
structure  described  in  the  guide-book  as  a 
mixture  of  Romanesque  and  Early  Pointed 
architecture.  One  of  the  few  "  sights  "  in  the 
little  town  is  the  house  of  George  Supersaxo,  a 
sixteenth-century  member  of  a  famous  local 
family.  He  was  the  leader  of  the  French 
faction,  despite  his  German  descent,  and  was 
driven  out  of  the  country,  to  die  within  sight  of 
it  at  Vevey.  He  it  was  who  demolished  the 
castle  of  Batraz  built  by  Peter  of  Savoy  in  1260 
in  the  vicinity  of  Martigny.  He  was  the  father 
of  twenty-three  children  who  are  represented 
with  him  and  his  wife  over  an  altar  in  the  pil- 
grimage church  of  Glis. 

Supersaxo  flourished  during  the  episcopate  of 
Matthew  Schinner,  whose  life  reminds  one  of  that 
of  his  contemporary  Wolsey.  He  was  born,  the 
child  of  poor  parents,  near  Viesch,  and  with  great 
difficulty  and  amid  severe  privations  succeeded 
in  educating  himself  for  the  priesthood.  Luckily 
for  him  one  of  his  uncles  became  Bishop  of  Sion, 
and,  recognising  the  young  ecclesiastic's  talents, 
after  a  time  abdicated  in  his  favour.  The  new 
prelate  distinguished  himself  by  his  zeal  for 
the  papacy  and  was  employed  by  Juhus  H.  to 
preach  a  crusade  against  the  French  throughout 
Switzerland.     To  his  solicitations  was   due  in 

92 


The  Valais 

great  part  the  defeat  of  the  invaders  of  the  Milan- 
ese. In  1516,  Schinner  was  sent  to  the  Court  of 
England,  as  envoy  to  the  Emperor  Maximilian, 
and  obtained  a  heavy  subsidy  from  Henry  VIII. 
to  carry  on  the  war  against  France.  The  Bishop 
of  Sion  became  a  powerful  prince,  and  was 
rewarded  for  his  services  to  the  Pope  by  the 
cardinal's  hat — an  honour  very  rarely  conferred, 
I  believe,  on  the  Swiss  or  their  subject  nation- 
alities. 

Brieg,  the  next  most  important  town  in  the 
Valais — now,  perhaps,  the  most  important — is 
a  Spanish-looking  place,  also  abounding  in 
memorials  of  the  aristocratic  period.  It  was 
the  residence  of  many  wealthy  families  engaged 
in  trade  with  Italy.  The  foremost  of  these  were 
the  Stockalpers,  who  attained  in  the  seventeenth 
century  to  the  position  held  by  the  Pfyffers  at 
Lucerne.  Gaspard  Stockalper  was  called  the 
King  of  the  Simplon.  He  was  a  knight  of  the 
Empire,  a  citizen  of  Milan,  a  baron  of  Savoy, 
grand  bailiff  of  his  own  country.  Having 
amassed  an  immense  fortune  in  the  salt  trade, 
he  built  the  enormous  palace  which  still  remains 
the  largest  private  building  in  Switzerland. 
Composed  of  several  wings  and  enclosing  many 
courts,  this  mansion  is  redeemed  from  mere 
heaviness  by  its  tall,  graceful  towers,  which, 
surmounted  by  tin  cupolas  in  the  Saracen  style, 
form  landmarks  for  miles  around.     A  graceful 

93 


Switzerland 

double  bridge  named  the  Bridge  of  Sighs  leads 
across  the  public  street  to  the  curious  chapel. 
Within,  the  vast  halls  are  given  up  to  dust  and 
silence,  except  in  the  wing  where  the  Simplon 
railway  administration  has  installed  its  offices. 
The  palace  by  its  splendour  excited  the  jealousy 
and  cupidity  of  the  dizains  of  Valais.  In  1678, 
Stockalper  was  cited  before  an  irregularly  con- 
stituted tribunal  to  answer  a  charge  of  malversa- 
tion. Knowing  v/hat  justice  to  expect  from  his 
judges,  the  old  Baron  fled  across  the  Alps, 
abandoning  the  greater  part  of  his  immense 
property. 

A  hospice  on  the  pass  commemorates  the 
charity  of  this  unfortunate  merchant-prince ; 
while  the  great  Ursuline  convent,  dating  from 
1663,  illustrates  his  zeal  for  the  Catholic  faith. 
Brieg  has  fared  better  at  the  hands  of  time  and 
the  invader  than  Visp,  to  the  westward,  whose 
old  mansions  are  now  divided  into  wretched 
tenements  ;  or  than  the  once  wealthy  villages, 
higher  up  the  Rhone,  which  one  passes  in  dreary 
and  apparently  endless  succession  till  the  work  of 
man  becomes  lost  in  the  glory  of  the  everlasting 
snow. 

Near  Viesch  is  one  of  the  most  curious  and 
beautiful  sights  of  Switzerland,  the  Marjelen  See, 
the  lake  which  disappears  at  intervals  in  a  single 
night.  Most  probably  when  you  have  toiled  up 
the  bridle-path  that  meanders  up  and  round  the 

94 


The  Valais 

mountain  you  will  come  suddenly  upon  a  lake 
whose  still,  deep  blue  waters  reflect  the  shadows 
of  the  snow-crowned  peaks  of  the  Strahlhorn 
and  the  Eggishorn.  Roughly  triangular  in 
form,  it  measures  between  two  and  three  miles 
from  base  to  apex,  with  an  average  breadth  of  a 
quarter  of  a  mile.  The  western  shore  is  over- 
hung by  lofty,  sharply  serrated  cliffs  hewn  out 
of  virgin  ice.  They  are  an  intense  hyacinth- 
blue  in  colour,  except  at  the  margin  of  the  waters, 
where  they  are  broken  up  into  floes  and  small 
boulders  of  dazzling  whiteness,  just  as  though 
some  old  magician  had  frozen  the  waters  as  they 
broke  in  foam.  Through  the  wonderful  trans- 
lucency  of  this  ice  barrier  you  may  see  into  the 
fissured  heart  of  the  great  Aletsch  glacier.  If  it 
is  summer  and  the  Swiss  sunshine  is  beating 
down,  the  cliffs  will  slowly  transform  them- 
selves, before  your  eyes,  into  a  thousand  fairy 
shapes  amid  a  kaleidoscopic  blaze  of  colour. 

But  it  may  be  that  you  will  find  only  a  deep 
hollow  where  you  looked  for  a  lake,  with  cliffs 
double  the  height  the  guide-books  lead  you  to 
expect.  For  sixteen  times  within  the  last 
thirty  years,  after  an  exceptional  spell  of  heat, 
have  the  ice  walls  given  way  under  the  enormous 
pressure  of  the  waters.  Fissures  appear  in  all 
directions,  until  quite  suddenly  the  wall  is 
pierced  right  through  and  under  the  Aletsch 
glacier.     The  lake   water  moves  swiftly  away, 

95 


Switzerland 

often  to  carry  havoc  and  destruction  into  the 
valley  of  the  Rhone. 

You  will  be  particularly  fortunate  if  you 
should  visit  the  Marjelen  See  when  this  strange 
subsidence  is  taking  place,  for  the  lake  gives 
no  warning  of  its  coming  disappearance.  For 
about  a  day  there  is  a  gradual  sinking  of  the 
level  of  the  waters  that  would  pass  unnoticed 
but  for  the  ice-floes  which  are  stranded.  Then 
suddenly  comes  a  roar  from  beneath  the  glacier, 
and  the  thunder  of  rushing  waters.  Huge  ice- 
boulders  lower  themselves  from  the  overhanging 
cliffs  and  come  crashing  and  splashing  into  the 
blue-green  waters  down  below.  Lower  and 
lower  sinks  the  water  ;  ever  more  intensely  blue 
are  the  masses  of  ice,  newly  exposed  to  view. 

Terror  seizes  the  hearts  of  shepherds  or  cow- 
boys who  hear  the  sinister  sound.  They  will 
leave  their  cattle  on  the  mountain-side  and  fly 
down  into  the  Rhone  valley  to  warn  the  in- 
habitants of  the  approaching  menace.  Custom 
decrees  that  the  first  messenger  who  brings  the 
news  shall  be  presented  with  a  new  pair  of  shoes 
at  the  expense  of  the  valley  :  a  reward,  one 
would  think,  hardly  proportionate  to  the  ser- 
vice rendered  when  the  valley  folk  are  thus 
enabled  to  remove  their  flocks  and  herds  to  a 
place  of  safety. 

Above  Viesch  you  ma}/  follow  the  Rhone  to 
its  famed  cavern  in  the  ice,  and  beyond,  where 

96 


1 


.  *   ■■     »  : .» 


»-,  .  .    -. 


s ;  •:  w^\ 


o 

(0 

c 
_o 

0) 
't* 


o 


The  Valais 

the  road  from  Uri  zigzags  down  the  Furka  Hke 
frozen  forked  lightning.  Over  this  pass  and  the 
gloomy  Grimsel,  by  which  the  first  Germans 
came  into  the  Valais,  pours  year  after  year  a 
dense,  enthusiastic,  clamant  stream  of  tourists 
of  every  nationality  under  heaven.  Some  are 
absorbed  by  the  railway  at  Brieg  and  distributed 
over  Savoy,  the  Pays  de  Vaud,  and  the  world 
beyond;  others  are  disgorged  at  Visp  and  di- 
verted into  the  long  valley  of  Zermatt.  Com- 
paratively few  penetrate  the  two  parallel  valleys 
beyond,  those  of  Anniviers  and  Kerens,  which 
were,  I  fancy,  first  described  by  Victor  Tissot. 
The  people  of  the  Val  d' Anniviers  are  said  to  be 
descended  from  the  Huns  ;  and  you  have  only 
to  look  at  their  ugly  faces  to  believe  it.  They 
are  at  any  rate  nomadic,  like  the  tribesmen  of 
Attila,  and  in  the  vintage  season  migrate  to 
Sierre,  where  you  may  see  their  cottages  stand- 
ing empty  at  other  times  of  the  year.  "  The 
parish  priest  of  Vissoye,"  says  M.  Tissot,  "  mi- 
grates at  the  head  of  his  flock,  with  the  school- 
master, the  president,  and  all  the  authorities. 
The  families  follow  one  after  the  other,  like  a 
caravan  in  the  desert.  First  comes  the  mule, 
heavily  laden,  led  by  the  head  of  the  family, 
with  the  little  children  snugly  packed  in  the 
panniers,  like  birds  in  their  nests ;  then  the 
wife,  taking  charge  of  the  goats,  the  sheep,  and 
the  calves  ;  and  behind  her  the  pigs  trot  grunt- 

G  97 


Switzerland 

ing  along,  driven  by  a  thin  little  giri  with  tangled 
hair,  or  a  toothless  old  woman  armed  with  a 
thick  stick."  The  vineyards  at  Sierre  are  owned 
by  the  communes  of  the  valley  jointly,  and  the 
people  go  out  to  cultivate  them  as  a  body  to  the 
sound  of  fife  and  drum. 

They  must,  I  imagine,  welcome  this  annual 
outing,  for  life  in  their  own  valley  is  so  cheer- 
less that  it  is  called  by  pious  people  the  Valley 
of    Heaven.     The    thoughts    of    these    curious 
peasants    turn    perpetually    gravewards.     Mar- 
riage and  birth  are  for  them  the  occasions  of 
sighings  and  groanings ;    but  a  funeral  is  the 
pretext  for  universal  rejoicing  and  for  display. 
*'  We  save  up  all  our  lives  for  our  funerals," 
observe   the  peasants  ;    a  practice  which  sug- 
gests that  their  ancestors  should  be  looked  for 
among  the   London   poor  rather  than  on  the 
steppes  of  Asia.     They  know  neither  song  nor 
dance  ;    and  like  most  people  who  think  a  lot 
about  a  future  life,  they  devote  all  their  interests 
and  energies  to  increasing  their  worldly  posses- 
sions.    In  striking  contrast  to  these  sad,  grasping 
folks  are  their  neighbours  of  the  Val  d'Herens. 
They  are  a  vigorous  race,  who  love  wine,  woman, 
and  song,  gaudy  costumes,  and  an  occasional 
fight ;   for  which  reason  the  pious  people  afore- 
said call  this  the  Devil's  Valley.     Not  having 
the  wisdom  of  the  children  of  hght,  they  do  not 
ask  a  dowry  from  their  brides,  but  make  of  their 

98 


The  Valais 

marriages  a  festival  to  which  all  their  neigh- 
bours are  bidden.  "  In  former  days  the  bride's 
maids  wore  crowns  of  artificial  flowers,  while 
the  bridegroom  and  his  men  wore  black  coats. 
After  the  first  meal  the  guests  went  out  and 
threw  into  the  air  handfuls  of  apples,  which  they 
caught  in  their  hats  ;  and  those  who  caught  the 
most  were  sure  to  be  the  happiest  during  the 
year.  Then  they  promenaded  through  the 
village,  and  danced  on  the  green  to  the  music 
of  a  violin." 

Knowing  something  of  the  characters  of  the 
two  peoples,  you  will  not  be  surprised  to  hear 
that  in  the  struggles  for  freedom  in  the  first  half 
of  last  century  the  natives  of  the  Heavenly 
Valley  took  no  part,  but  that  the  merry  men  of 
Evolene  in  the  Val  d' Kerens  fought  and  bled  for 
their  own  and  their  countrymen's  liberty.  The 
Anniviards  were  no  doubt  too  busy  burying  their 
dead  and  adding  field  to  field  to  help  them,  ex- 
cept by  their  prayera. 


99 


THE    DOGS    OF    ST    BERNARD 

In  a  small  room  in  the  natural  history  museum 
of  Berne  is  preserved  the  stuffed  body  of  Barry, 
the  illustrious  St  Bernard  dog.  He  is  exhibited 
here  as  a  specimen  of  the  Swiss  fauna.  His 
virtues  and  the  nobility  of  his  career  deserve  a 
monument  far  grander  than  that  of  the  mer- 
cenaries of  Lucerne.  They  died  warring  against 
their  fellow-men  in  defence  of  a  bad  government : 
the  dog  battled  with  the  giant  forces  of  nature 
in  the  service  of  humanity,  and  died  after  saving, 
some  say  forty,  others,  seventy,  lives  of  men  and 
women. 

In  the  huge,  dignified  dog  you  have  bene- 
volence and  heroism  incarnate.  His  body  is 
itself  a  monument  and  embodiment  of  all  that 
is  good  in  this  world — beauty,  courage,  kind- 
ness, abnegation,  fidelity.  Of  how  many  of  the 
greatest  heroes  and  sages  could  as  much  be 
said  ?  Pertransiit  Barry  benefaciendo  should  be 
the  device  on  a  monument  to  which  all  mankind 
should  subscribe  in  gratitude  to  their  best  and 
most  unselfish  friend.  It  is  true  that  if  the 
merits  of  our  dogs  were  recorded,  the  fame  of  our 
best  men  would  be  sadly  dimmed  in  contrast. 
The  best  with  us  is  the  commonplace  with  the  dog. 

lOO 


The  Dogs  of  St  Bernard 

It  was  not,  unfortunately,  given  to  Barry  to 
die  on  the  field  of  honour,  as  has  so  often  been 
asserted.  According  to  this  legend  he  was 
shot  by  a  benighted  traveller  whom  he  was  about 
to  rescue,  and  who  mistook  him  for  a  wolf. 
Barry  escaped  the  honours  of  martyrdom,  and 
was  alive  at  Berne  as  late  as  1815.  With  him 
the  original  St  Bernard  breed  seems  to  have 
expired. 

The  pass  which  has  given  its  name  to  these 
canine  lords  was  itself  named  after  a  hol}^  man, 
who  dwelt  there  in  the  tenth  century.  This 
Bernard  was  the  son  of  a  Savoyard  baron, 
Richard  de  Menthon,  and  is  said,  of  course, 
to  have  manifested  the  usual  uncanny,  saintly 
characteristics  in  his  earliest  childhood.  How- 
ever, he  could  do  something  more  than  resist 
temptation,  and  when  the  Saracens,  who  had 
settled  on  the  Riviera,  penetrated  the  valley  of 
Aosta,  he  armed  the  people  against  them  and 
drove  them  far  to  the  south.  The  infidels  had, 
unfortunately,  destroyed  the  hospice  which  had 
long  existed  on  the  head  of  the  pass  into  the 
Rhone  valley.  This  Bernard  rebuilt,  and  in  that 
dreary  solitude — still  the  highest  habitation  but 
one  in  Europe — he  passed  the  rest  of  his  pil- 
grimage on  earth. 

The  pass  in  those  days  was  the  most  fre- 
quented highway  into  Italy.  Over  it  came  pil- 
grims from  France  and  the  Netherlands  and  even 

lOI 


Switzerland 

distant  Britain  on  their  way  to  Rome  and 
Jerusalem.  Every  year  you  might  hope  to  see 
an  archbishop,  sometimes  an  emperor  with  a 
splendid  train  of  knights  and  men-at-arms. 
The  hospice  rose  in  importance,  and  in  the  twelfth 
century  was  entrusted  to  the  Augustinians,  or 
Austin  canons,  as  they  were  called  in  England. 
Every  passer-by  left  an  offering — unlike  the 
modern  traveller's,  strictly  proportionate  to  his 
means — and  the  monastery  grew  wealthy  and 
powerful.  Their  riches  could  have  benefited 
the  canons  themselves  but  little  in  those  chilly 
solitudes,  but  doubtless  flowed  into  the  coffers 
of  the  mother  house  at  Martigny  and  other 
foundations  of  the  widespread  order.  Century 
after  century  went  by,  but  these  good  men  kept 
eternal  watch  on  that  high  pass,  ready  to  succour 
the  benighted  wanderer  and  to  guide  the  way- 
farer into  the  plains  below.  At  the  end  of  the 
eighteenth  century  travellers  of  a  new  kind 
came  across  the  pass  and  returned  year  after 
year.  Europe  was  up  in  arms,  and  the  legions  of 
France  and  Austria  poured  over  the  mountains 
in  dark  and  turbulent  streams.  In  May  1800 
came  Napoleon  himself. ^^  With  him  the  wealth 
of  the  monastery  seemed  to  depart.  With  the 
opening  of  other  passes,  the  traffic  over  the  St 
Bernard  rapidly  lessened.  Fewer  and  fewer 
travellers  cross  every  year,  and  these  few  are 
mostly  poor  Italian  labourers.     The  occasional 

102 


The  Dogs  of  St  Bernard 

tourists  that  swell  their  ranks  are  not  remarkable 
for  their  munificence,  grudging  the  monks  the 
bare  cost  of  their  accommodation.  Every  year 
the  task  of  maintaining  the  hospice  becomes 
harder.  Meanwhile  such  are  the  rigours  of  their 
life  that  the  monks  can  endure  this  stern  service 
only  twelve  or  fifteen  years.  Then,  worn  out 
and  with  shattered  health,  they  are  sent  down 
to  the  mother  house  of  Martigny. 

The  dogs,  who  share  their  heroic  labours,  are 
fabled  to  be  descended  from  St  Bernard's  own 
four-legged  companion,  who,  to  judge  from  the 
picture  in  the  refectory,  was  a  bloodhound. 
However,  the  St  Bernard  to  this  day  has  a  good 
many  of  the  bloodhound's  marks.  Another 
tradition  has  it  that  the  parents  of  the  race  were 
a  native  mastiff  and  a  Danish  bull  bitch.  What- 
ever their  progenitors  may  have  been,  persistent 
in-breeding,  with  a  special  function  in  view, 
produced  in  the  long  run  a  distinct  species  of 
dog.  The  race  seems  to  have  continued  pure 
down  to  the  days  of  Barry.  In  1815,  the  winter 
being  of  unusual  severity,  the  females,  contrary 
to  custom,  were  called  on  for  service  on  the  pass. 
They  nearly  all  perished,  and  it  was  suspected 
that  in-breeding  had  weakened  the  most  valu- 
able qualities  of  the  tribe.  At  the  beginning  of 
1830,  therefore,  the  surviving  dogs  were  paired 
with  long-haired  Newfoundland  bitches.  The 
results  were  not  uniformly  satisfactory.     Many 

103 


Switzerland 

of  the  dogs  inherited  the  long  hair  of  their 
mothers,  and  were  Hable  to  be  weighed  down 
and  buried  by  accumulations  of  snow.  They 
were  sold,  therefore,  or  given  to  benefactors  of 
the  monastery,  among  others  to  M.  Pourtales 
of  Muri,  M.  Rougement  of  Morat,  and  Colonel 
Risold  of  Berne.  These  dogs  were  red,  with 
white  marks,  black  face  and  neck,  strongly  built, 
deep  -  chested,  and  taller  than  the  living  re- 
presentatives of  the  breed.  From  them  are 
descended  nearly  all  the  St  Bernards  of  this 
country,  into  which,  to  the  great  contentment 
of  all  true  patriots,  they  were  introduced  in 
the  sixties.  A  St  Bernard  dog  is  said  to 
have  been  seen  in  England  in  the  thirteenth 
century,  and  another,  looking  more  like  a 
mastiff,  was  brought  from  the  hospice  to  Leasowe 
Castle  in  the  Waterloo  year  ;  but  neither  of 
these  animals  left  any  posterity  recognised  in 
the  stud-books. 

It  is  the  short-coated  cousins  of  our  British 
dogs  who  do  duty  on  the  great  St  Bernard. 
During  the  winter  the  canons  send  out  patrols 
in  each  direction,  composed  of  two  of  their 
number,  or  of  their  lay  assistants,  the  sturdy 
marronniers.  These  parties  are  each  preceded 
by  two  of  the  dogs,  one  of  whom  carries  a  little 
keg  of  kirsch  round  his  neck,  the  other  a  small, 
tightly-rolled  blanket.  If  they  come  upon  a 
fallen  traveller,  one  of  the  two  stays  by  him, 

T04 


*'      *     -»      a      ^ 
>    ',»     >        J  > 


)     •>  :  > 


•     *      -t 


-4 


C 

o 

c 
o 


'a 

(A 

c 
o 
CQ 

o 


c 


The  Dogs  of  St  Bernard 

licking  his  face  and  hands,  while  the  other  goes 
back  to  fetch  his  human  assistants.  It  is  the 
special  duty  of  these  noble  dogs  to  trace  the 
passes.  The  peculiar  formation  of  the  moun- 
tains makes  it  impossible  for  the  most  ex- 
perienced guides  to  do  this,  after  a  fresh  fall  of 
snow,  unassisted  by  canine  sagacity  and  instinct. 
There  is  a  similar  hospice  on  the  Simplon, 
served  by  the  same  community  and  the  same 
race  of  dogs.  These  creations  of  mediaeval 
charity  and  brotherliness  are  rapidly  becoming 
obsolete,  now  that  the  Alps  are  pierced  at  so 
many  points  with  tunnels  and  the  passes  them- 
selves are  better  managed  and  engineered.  It 
would  be  a  pity  if  the  splendid  faculties  of  the 
St  Bernard  dog  were  suffered  to  die  out  and 
the  enormous  potentialities  of  the  canine  race 
for  love  and  service  were  again  wasted.  Man 
tends  to  become  more  and  more  of  a  machine. 
In  a  world  composed  of  electricians,  engineers, 
biologists,  vivisectors,  water-works  directors  and 
what  not,  we  shall  sadly  miss  the  unselfish, 
emotional,  noble-hearted  dog. 


loS 


THE    GUIDES 

Unlike  the  faithful  hound  immortaHsed  by 
Longfellow,  the  guide  grows  every  day  more  in 
demand,  as  the  passion  for  mountain-climbing 
becomes  more  general.  It  has  always  seemed 
to  me  a  fine  calHng  this,  mastering  the  moun- 
tains and  braving  the  avalanche.  The  responsi- 
bility of  the  guide  is  immense,  his  authority  at 
the  moment  of  danger  unquestioned.  He  also 
is  a  mercenary,  if  you  will,  but  his  greatest  glory 
is  to  save  life.  The  good  guide  emulates  the 
virtues  of  the  St  Bernard  dog. 

Even  for  those  bom  in  the  shadow  of  the 
mountains,  the  training  for  this  manly  profession 
is  long  and  arduous.  The  earlier  he  makes  up  his 
mind  that  he  will  follow  it  the  better,  for  as  a 
boy  he  can  practise  clambering  and  climbing  on 
the  lowest  slopes  of  the  hills  round  his  village. 
The  Swiss  schools  will  look  after  his  physical 
training.  At  the  age  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  he 
runs  errands  for  the  guides,  perhaps  is  able  to 
introduce  them  to  clients.  Presently  he  gets 
taken  on  by  one  of  these  great  men  as  a  porter, 
and  joins  the  climbing  parties.  He  may  pass 
five  or  six  summers  thus,  all  the  while  keeping 

his  eyes  and  ears  well  open  and  familiarising 

io6 


The  Guides 

himself  with  the  mountain  tracks  and  the 
practice  of  his  craft.  In  the  winter  he  studies 
EngHsh,  perhaps  some  other  language,  and 
spends  as  much  time  as  he  can  with  his  masters. 
At  the  age  of  twenty-three  he  presents  him- 
self at  the  Fiihrerkurs  or  "  guides'  course," 
which  is  held  every  two  years  at  Sion  in  the 
Valais,  and  at  other  centres.  He  must  bring 
with  him  a  certificate  of  good  character  from  the 
head  of  his  commune,  and  testimonials  of  his 
fitness  from  well-known  guides,  extending  over 
at  least  three  years.  The  course  is  conducted 
by  the  Swiss  Alpine  Club,  one  of  the  instructors 
being  a  medical  man.  The  lectures  deal  with 
the  relations  of  guides  and  their  employers, 
the  proper  equipment  of  both,  the  geography 
and  natural  history  of  the  candidate's  region, 
the  use  of  charts  and  instruments,  and  first-aid 
to  the  injured.  Each  of  these  subjects  occupies 
a  day,  and  four  more  days  are  devoted  to  test- 
ing the  abilities  and  fitness  of  the  aspirants. 
An  adjoining  peak  is  selected,  and  the  party, 
professors  and  students,  ascend  to  the  summit 
and  there  pass  the  night.  The  next  morning 
at  this  breezy  altitude  a  viva  voce  examina- 
tion takes  place,  and  the  would-be  guides  are 
questioned  as  to  the  paths  they  have  taken, 
their  peculiar  methods  of  dealing  with  obstacles, 
their  reasons  for  having  taken  this  or  that 
course,   the  distances  of  adjoining  mountains, 

107 


Switzerland 

and  of  the  villages  below.  This  concluded,  the 
party  descends  by  the  most  difficult  route  that 
can  be  devised.  The  candidates  are  then  sub- 
jected to  a  week's  military  discipline,  and  at 
the  end  of  that  time  may  hope  to  be  presented 
with  the  diploma  of  a  fully  qualified  guide.  At 
Chamounix,  before  anyone  can  sit  for  examina- 
tion he  must  be  certified  by  a  commissioned 
guide  to  have  made  ten  dangerous  ascents, 
including  the  complete  tour  of  Mont  Blanc. 

Having  thus  superintended  the  education  of 
the  guide,  the  Swiss  Alpine  Club  never  ceases 
to  watch  over  his  welfare.  Some  years  ago  it 
introduced  a  scheme,  which  may  or  may  not 
have  become  law,  for  the  compulsory  insurance 
of  guides.  The  club  was  prepared  to  pay  five- 
eighths  of  the  premium,  if  the  Government  would 
contribute  another  eighth ;  so  that  a  guide 
could,  for  instance,  by  paying  eight  francs  a 
year,  insure  his  life  for  4000  francs.  Those 
acquainted  with  the  psychology  of  the  danger- 
ous trades  need  not  be  told  that  there  is 
no  great  eagerness  among  these  professional 
mountaineers  to  avail  themselves  of  these  ad- 
vantages, even  at  such  a  low  rate. 

It  is  not  every  guide  that  submits  to  this 
long  noviciate.  In  an  interesting  contribution 
to  The  Traveller,  ten  years  ago,  Mrs  Aubrey  Le 
Blond  spoke  of  the  unorthodox  beginning  of 
Joseph  Imboden,   of   St  Nicholas.     His  father 

108 


The  Guides 

would  not  allow  him  to  embrace  this  dangerous 
calling,  and  apprenticed  him  to  a  shoemaker. 
Having  managed  to  save  twenty  francs,  he  left 
his  employer,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  and  took  up 
position  outside  the  Riff  el  Hotel  at  Zermatt, 
offering  his  services  to  every  traveller  as  a 
guide.  As  he  had  no  certificate  and  no  testi- 
monials, no  one  would  employ  him.  "  At 
last,"  he  said,  "  my  twenty  francs  were  all  but 
spent  when  I  managed  to  persuade  a  young 
Englishman  to  let  me  take  him  up  Monte  Rosa. 
I  told  him  I  knew  the  mountain  well  and  would 
not  charge  him  high.  So  we  started.  I  had 
never  set  foot  on  a  glacier  before  or  on  any 
mountain,  but  there  was  a  good  track  up  the 
snow,  and  I  followed  this,  and  there  were  other 
parties  on  Monte  Rosa,  so  I  copied  what  they 
did,  and  roped  my  gentleman  as  I  saw  the 
guides  doing  theirs.  It  was  a  lovely  day,  and 
we  got  on  very  well,  and  my  gentleman  was 
much  pleased  and  offered  me  an  engagement  to 
go  to  Chamounix  with  him  over  higher  passes. 

"  I  said  to  him,  '  Herr,  until  to-day  I  have 
never  climbed  a  mountain,  but  I  am  strong  and 
active,  and  I  have  lived  among  mountaineers 
and  mountains,  and  I  am  sure  I  can  satisfy  you 
if  you  will  take  me.' 

"  He  was  quite  ready  to  do  so,  and  we  crossed 
the  Col  du  Geant  and  went  up  Mont  Blanc,  but 

could  do  no  more  as  the  weather  was  bad. 

109 


Switzerland 

Then  he  wrote  a  great  deal  in  my  book,  and 
since  then  I  have  never  been  in  want  of  a  gentle- 
man to  guide." 

Another  amateur  guide,  less  fortunate  than 
Imboden,  saw  no  one  to  imitate  when  the  time 
came  to  rope  his  party  together.  He  trusted  to 
luck,  and  put  the  rope  round  their  necks,  walking 
between  them  himself  as  if  he  were  leading  them 
to.  execution.  In  this  way  they  trudged  for 
many  hours  over  mountain  and  glacier,  without, 
strangely  enough,  breaking  their  necks. 

The  canine  virtues  by  which  the  Swiss  have 
redeemed  less  honourable  occupations  have 
been  exhibited  to  a  heroic  degree  by  the 
Alpine  guides.  Their  roll  of  honour  would 
reach  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  Mont 
Blanc.  There  was  old  Jean  Antoine  Carrel,  who 
died  of  exhaustion  after  bringing  his  party  in 
safety  through  a  terrific  storm ;  there  was 
Knabel,  who  threw  himself  over  the  side  of  an 
ice  arete  to  save  the  party  who,  one  by  one,  had 
been  dragged  by  the  fall  of  their  companions 
down  the  other  side ;  and  Gentinette,  whose 
comrade  had  been  killed  before  his  eyes  by  a 
falling  stone  precipitating  the  whole  party  into 
a  crevasse,  and  who,  himself  wounded,  carried, 
pulled,  and  pushed  his  half-conscious  charge 
up  the  steep  ice  slope  into  safety.  "Never 
return  without  your  party  "  is  a  rule  to  which  the 
guides  with  very  few  exceptions  have  always 

no 


The  Guides 

lived  up.  Their  skill  and  endurance  have  been 
brought  into  service  far  from  their  own  land. 
It  was  Zurbriggen,  a  Swiss  guide,  who  assisted 
Sir  Martin  Conway  to  scale  the  Andes.  Others 
have  exercised  their  craft  in  Norway,  or  the  Cau- 
casus, and  the  mighty  Himalayas.  Wherever 
there  is  an  apparently  inaccessible  mountain, 
one  of  these  quiet,  unpretending  Swiss  peasants 
will  find  a  way  to  scale  it. 


Ill 


AN    OLD    SWISS    WATERING-PLACE 

My  earliest  recollections  of  Baden  in  Aargau 
are  not  agreeable.  They  may  serve,  however, 
as  a  warning  to  my  countrymen  not  to  place 
their  trust  in  Swiss  time-tables.  Obsolete  Brad- 
shaws,  ABC's  and  time-tables  have,  I  am  con- 
vinced, wrecked  more  lives  than  our  English 
laws  and  the  Goodwin  Sands  put  together. 

For  a  certain  particular  reason  I  wished  to 
be  in  Paris  on  Wednesday  afternoon.  Consulting 
a  time-sheet  displayed  at  Bellinzona  railway  ' 
station,  I  ascertained  that  a  train  left  Zurich 
about  half -past  eight  on  the  evening  of  Tuesday, 
which  would  bring  me  to  my  destination  about 
six  in  the  morning.  I  boarded  the  St  Gotthard 
express  with  a  light  heart,  congratulating  my- 
self that  I  should  have  three  hours  in  which  to 
dine  and  digest  at  Zurich  before  starting  on 
my  long  night  journey.  The  day  was  fine.  I 
revelled  in  the  sunshine  of  Switzerland  after  long 
exposure  to  the  rigours  of  an  Itahan  spring. 
The  climate  of  Italy,  I  long  ago  decided,  is  fitted 
only  for  the  manufacture  of  ice-creams.  The 
farther  north  we  went  the  brighter  the  sun 
shone.  The  run  down  towards  the  Lake  of 
Lucerne   was    as   invigorating    as    a   toboggan 

112 


o       9  »  y 


•  .    ■>:.«:» 


An  Old   Swiss  Watering-Place 

slide.  A  hardy  German  even  proposed  to  open 
one  of  the  windows,  seeing  there  were  about 
forty  passengers  breathing  the  air  of  the  same 
car  ;  but  his  hardihood  was  indignantly  checked 
by  his  fellow-countrymen.  Presently  a  man 
came  and  sat  down  beside  me.  I  thought  he 
did  so  because  I  had  taken  the  precaution  of 
sitting  opposite  an  exceedingly  pretty  girl  from 
Lugano.  But  it  seemed  that  he  knew  me. 
He  was  one  of  a  jovial  band  of  commercial 
travellers  whom  I  had  met  in  the  train  between 
Brescia  and  Milan.  Though  an  Italian,  he  lived 
at  Winterthur,  and  thither  he  was  now  re- 
turning. He  had  to  change  trains  at  Zurich. 
I  expressed  myself,  in  Pickwickian  French,  as 
happy  in  the  prospect  of  his  company.  In 
reality,  I  cursed  him  for  putting  an  end  to  all 
chance  of  a  conversation  with  the  pretty  girl. 
I  told  him  I  was  going  on  that  night  to  Paris. 
He  said  I  would  have  to  hurry,  as  the  last  train 
was  timed  to  depart  a  few  minutes  after  our 
arrival.  I  assured  him  he  was  wrong.  He  said 
he  had  never  heard  of  the  eight-o'clock  train, 
but  made  no  doubt  that  I  was  right.  By  the 
time  we  got  to  Ziirich  I  was  quite  fond  of  the 
man.  He  said  he  had  half  a  mind  to  pass  the 
night  there,  but  on  issuing  from  the  station  we 
found  the  streets  swarming  with  people  and  the 
hotels  besieged.  At  a  turning  we  were  con- 
fronted by  a  group  of  fellows  in  the  costume 

H  H3 


Switzerland 

of  the  fourteenth  century.  There  was  a  great 
carnival  in  full  swing.  Zurich  was  celebrating 
some  historic  event  and  the  turnvereine  had 
assembled.  Not  a  seat  was  to  be  had  in  bier- 
halle,  restaurant,  or  bun-shop.  The  Italian 
was  dismayed.  "  No  chance  of  a  bed  here  to- 
night !  "  he  muttered  ',  "  1  must  go  on  at  once 
to  Winterthur."  And  he  incontinently  fled.  I, 
on  the  contrary,  was  delighted  that  I  had  come 
at  so  opportune  a  moment.  Never  could  I  have 
seen  the  city  so  gay,  so  animated.  It  was 
brimming  and  frothing  with  the  old  mediaeval 
German  jollity.  As  to  dinner,  I  could  have  it 
on  the  train.  In  the  meantime  it  was  amusing 
to  watch  the  desperation  of  the  visitors  turned 
away  from  one  hotel  after  another. 

I  strolled,  tired,  but  airily,  on  to  the  vast 
departure  platform,  and  inquired  from  which 
platform  the  "eight  —  et  cetera"  for  Paris 
might  be  expected  to  leave.  The  porter  stared 
at  me  in  surprise  and  contempt.  "  There  is  no 
such  train,"  he  informed  me  coldly;  "  the  last 
train  for  Paris  left  two  hours  ago.  There  is  no 
other  till  to-morrow  morning." 

The  time-sheet  at  Bellinzona  gave  the  winter 
service,  to  delude  homeless  foreigners  and  keep 
them  in  Switzerland  in  the  interests  of  the  hotel 
proprietors. 

I  resigned  myself  to  the  inevitable.  No 
matter,  I  would  pass  the  night  in  Zurich.     But 

114 


An  Old  Swiss  Watering-Place 

now  the  animation"  of  the  town,  the  plight  of 
the  merrymakers,  assumed  a  new  and  terrible 
significance.  The  horror  of  my  situation  dawned 
upon  me.  I  could  not  get  away  from  the  town, 
but  perhaps  I  could  not  stay  in  it  either.  A 
frantic  search,  extending  over  three  hours,  satis- 
fied me  that  shelter  in  Zurich  was  not  to  be  had 
that  night  for  love  or  money.  The  fatal  word 
"  Besetzt  "  bade  fair  to  be  engraved  on  my 
brain.  I  returned  to  the  station.  I  approached 
the  same  porter.  "  I  must  get  out  of  this  town," 
I  told  him ;  "  this  is  no  place  for  me.  Is  there 
a  train  going  anywhere  in  the  direction  of  Paris 
to-night  ?  "  He  replied  with  a  scornful  ex- 
pression which  I  cannot  explain  that  I  could  go 
as  far  as  Often.  When  I  boarded  the  train  I 
found  that  fifty  or  so  persons  in  the  same  plight 
as  I  had  also  hit  on  the  same  expedient.  They 
also  were  going  to  Olten.  I  artfully  got  out 
at  a  place  named  Baden.  To  my  disgust,  a 
dozen  of  these  wretches  followed  me.  Near  the 
station  the  friendly  light  of  an  inn  shone  on  us 
through  open  doors.  We  all  broke  into  a  run. 
I  led.  Within  a  stride  of  the  threshold  I  fell 
prone  over  my  gladstone  bag.  The  field  swept 
by  with  a  rush.  I  picked  myself  up  only  to 
learn  that  my  fall  had  lost  me  the  only  remain- 
ing vacancy  on  the  roof  of  the  dog's  kennel. 

Seizing  my  bag  with  something  between  a  sob 
and  a  curse,  I  charged  down  the  next  street. 

"5 


Switzerland 

Everybody  had  gone  to  bed.  It  began  to  rain. 
As  there  seemed  to  be  no  poHcemen  about,  I 
resolved  to  encamp  for  the  night  on  a  doorstep. 
At  that  moment  a  wayfarer  hove  in  sight.  I 
was  glad  to  perceive  that  he  was  drunk.  A 
drunken  man  would  be  more  likely  than  any- 
body to  know  all  the  inns  of  a  town.  I  accosted 
him,  and  he  was  sober  enough  to  appreciate  my 
predicament.  With  the  kindliness  born  of  good 
beer,  he  gripped  one  of  the  handles  of  my  bag, 
and  led  me,  staggering,  to  the  door  of  an  inn 
with  the  appropriate  sign  of  "  The  Angel."  He 
thundered  at  the  door,  hiccoughed  good-night, 
and  vanished.  I  became  conscious  of  three  dark 
forms  surrounding  me.  These  mean  wretches 
had  tracked  me  from  the  station,  and  were  now 
ready  to  snatch  the  very  blankets  from  beneath 
me.  The  door  opened,  and  I  fell  on  to  the  mat. 
The  porter  harangued  me  in  the  patois  of  the 
canton  Aargau,  which  I  did  not  understand.  I 
brushed  him  aside  and  walked  upstairs.  Talking 
the  most  horrid  gibberish,  he  showed  all  four  of  us 
into  a  room  with  three  beds.  I  placed  my  bag 
on  one,  and  began  to  undress.  In  the  row  that 
followed  I  took  no  part  or  interest.  I  rather 
gathered  that  one  of  the  three  had  ordered  the 
room  in  advance,  and  would  not  share  it  with 
the  others.  The  porter,  I  suppose,  concluded 
from  my  resolute  bearing  that  it  was  I  who  had 
bespoken  the  room.     In  the  long  run  two  of  the 

ii6 


An  Old  Swiss  Watering-Place 

travellers  departed  in  dudgeon,  to  sleep  in  the 
rain,  I  conjecture,  and  one  of  the  other  beds 
was  immediately  occupied  by  a  Swiss  farmer, 
who  slept  in  his  clothes  with  a  bowler  hat  set 
firmly  on  his  head. 

This  experience  was  somewhat  more  thrilling 
than  it  may  seem  in  the  narration,  and  has 
enabled  me  at  all  events  to  applaud  the  prudence 
of  those  ladies  who  keep  trains  waiting  till  they 
have  received  the  personal  assurance  of  every 
official  on  the  platform  and  of  the  more  respect- 
able passengers  that  it  does  not  go  anywhere 
near  their  destination.  Man  is  too  proud  to 
ask  about  trains — he  consults  the  time-table  ; 
woman,  on  the  contrary,  scans  her  Bradshaw  with 
obvious  misgivings  and  goes  off  to  get  his  in- 
formation confirmed  by  the  bookstall  boy  or  the 
cloakroom  attendant. 

In  this  unexpected  manner  I  found  myself  in 
the  Swiss  Baden,  a  place  which  I  had  never 
thought  or  wished  to  visit.  I  knew  vaguely 
that  it  had  been  the  scene  of  many  important 
events  in  the  history  of  Switzerland,  and  that  it 
was  once  the  usual  meeting-place  of  the  federal 
assemblies.  It  was  selected  for  this  honour,  I 
imagine,  in  order  that  the  austere  delegates 
might  refresh  themselves  with  the  waters  and 
relax  their  sobriety  in  the  gaieties  for  which  the 
place  was  world-famous.  For  Baden  is  the 
Bath  or  Tunbridge  Wells  of  Switzerland,  and 

"7 


Switzerland 

as  such  was  resorted  to   by  those  inveterate 

hoHday-makers,   the   Romans.     In   the   Middle 

Ages  it  was  the  most  fashionable  and  frequented 

spa  in  Europe.     Indeed  it  seems  to  have  been 

a   pleasant    enough    spot,    with   manners    very 

different  from  those  common  to  most  mediaeval 

communities.     Through  Baden  Poggio  Braccio- 

lini  passed  in  1416,  and  so  delighted  was  he  with 

the  place  that  straightway  he  sat  down  and  wrote 

to  his  friend  Niccolo  Niccoli  a  long,  vivacious 

account  of  the  customs  of  its  inhabitants  and 

habitues.     "  The  ancients,"  he  wrote,  "  used  to 

boast  of  the  baths  of  Puteoli,  whose  attractions 

drew   the    Romans   in   swarms,    but   I   do   not 

think  they  can  come  near  Baden  for  pleasure, 

nor  can  they  stand  comparison  in   any  way. 

For  the  great  charm  of  Puteoli  lay  rather  in  its 

soft  climate  and  splendid  buildings  than  in  the 

gaiety  of  the  life  of  the  bathers.     But  here  we 

owe  nothing  to  the  scenery,  and  everything  else 

is  framed  for  pleasure  ;    so  that  very  often  I 

think  that  Venus  has  come  hither  from  C5^prus, 

bringing  in  her  train  joys  from  every  corner  of 

the  world.     And  visitors  to  these  waters,  though 

they     have  never  read  the  fantastic  tales  of 

Heliogabalus,   obey  so   faithfully  the    goddess' 

pleasant  commands,   so  exactly  reproduce  her 

tender  whims,  that  though  nature  is  their  only 

teacher  they  are  all  masters — and  mistresses — 

of  the  arts  of  love.  ..." 

118 


An  Old  Swiss  Watering-Place 

"  The  wealthy  town  of  Baden  .  .  .  lies  within  a 
circle  of  mountains,  near  a  wide  and  swiftly-flowing 
river  that  falls  into  the  Rhine  six  miles  from  the 
town.  About  half-a-mile  away  on  the  river  bank 
is  a  very  handsome  group  of  villas,  built  for 
the  use  of  bathers.  A  fine  square  occupies  the 
centre,  and  all  round  about  are  splendid  inns 
to  accommodate  the  crowd  of  visitors. 

"  Each  house  has  its  own  private  baths  for  the 
use  of  the  inmates  only,  and  baths  both  public 
and  private  number  about  thirty.  Only  two, 
however,  are  public  and  open  to  view.  These 
are  the  bathing  places  of  the  lower  orders,  and 
hither  flock  indiscriminately  women  and  men, 
boys  and  girls,  the  two  sexes  separated  only  by 
a  railing.  .  .  . 

"  But  in  the  private  houses,  bathing  is  more 
decent.  The  two  sexes  are  separated  by  a 
partition  ;  but  this  is  pierced  by  tiny  windows 
which  allow  the  men  and  women  bathers  to  take 
refreshments  together,  to  talk  to  and  caress 
each  other  in  their  accustomed  manner.  Above 
the  baths  is  a  kind  of  gallery  in  which  people 
assemble  to  watch  and  talk  to  the  bathers.  For 
everyone  is  allowed  to  come  and  go  as  he  pleases, 
to  chatter  and  joke  with  those  in  the  water.  The 
women,  as  they  go  in  and  out  of  the  water,  make 
a  liberal  display  of  their  figures  ;  there  are  no 
doors  nor  attendants  but  no  one  thinks  any  evil. 
In  many  places  the  baths  have  but  one  entrance 

119 


Switzerland 

for  men  and  women,  and  amusing  encounters 
often  occur  between  the  sexes,  both  most  hghtly 
clad.  The  men  wear  bathing  drawers,  the  women 
thin  smocks  of  Hnen,  slashed  at  the  sides,  so  that 
they  hide  neither  the  neck,  the  breast  nor  arms." 
Poggio  goes  on  to  say  how  the  women  give 
al  fresco  entertainments  in  the  baths,  to  which 
the  men  are  bidden  as  guests.  Himself  and  his 
companions  were  invited  sometimes  to  these 
watery  feasts.  The  Italian,  however,  ungallantly 
refused,  not,  he  hastens  to  assure  us,  from 
modesty,  "  which  is  considered  boorish  and  ill- 
bred,"  but  because  of  his  ignorance  of  the 
language.  He  felt  he  would  appear  foolish  to 
the  syrens  of  the  baths  unless  he  could  engage 
them  in  badinage  and  compliment.  But  two 
of  his  companions,  less  sensitive,  ventured  in, 
and  Poggio  seems  torn  between  contempt  for 
the  poor  figure  they  cut  and  envy  of  the  kind- 
ness with  which  their  hostesses  received  them. 
For  his  part  the  chronicler  retired  to  the  gallery 
to  look  on,  and  thickened  the  air  with  exclama- 
tion marks.  The  ways  of  the  Baden  husbands 
were  beyond  his  comprehension.  They  seemed 
not  to  regard  their  wives  as  personal  property  ! 
They  trusted  them  freely,  half-clad,  in  the  com- 
pany of  strange  men  !  ' '  Permirum  est  videre 
quanta  simplicitate  vivant !  "  What  simple-minded 
fools  they  must  be  to  imagine  their  wives  would 
not  deceive  them  if  they  had  a  chance  ! 

I20 


An  Old  Swiss  Watering-Place 

Life  passes  gaily  in  the  water  into  which  the 
visitors  plunge  some  three  or  four  times  a  day. 
There  is  dancing,  wine  and  song  and  playing  on 
the  harp.  "It  is  a  pleasing  sight  to  see  the 
young  girls  ripe  for  love  and  wedlock,  splendid 
in  physique,  clad  like  goddesses,  tuning  up  their 
strings.  Their  scanty  draperies  spread  out  and 
float  on  the  water.  You  would  think  them 
second  Venuses  !  " 

These  mermaidens  have  a  pretty  custom  of 
begging  gifts  from  the  spectators,  who  "  shower 
down  small  coins  on  the  most  beautiful,  which 
they  catch  partly  in  their  hands,  and  partly  they 
hold  out  their  garments  to  receive,  falling  over 
each  other  in  the  scramble,  often  discovering 
secrets  the  most  carefully  hidden.  And  garlands 
of  many-coloured  flowers  are  thrown  down  to 
them  which  while  still  in  the  water  they  twist 
round  their  hair.  .  .  .  The  mere  wishing  to  be 
sober  would  be  the  height  of  folly." 

But  regretfully  does  Bracciolini  feel  that  the 
height  of  pleasure  is  denied  him,  since  he  cannot 
speak  to  the  goddesses.  There  only  remains  for 
him  to  feast  his  eyes  on  the  spectacle,  to  make 
the  girls  scramble  for  flowers  and  coins,  to  accom- 
pany them  to  and  from  the  baths.  Perhaps  he 
would  have  had  a  better  time  had  be  been  less 
faint-hearted. 

After  supper  the  merrymakers  of  Baden  con- 
tinue their  revels  on  dry  land.     There  is  a  large 

121 


Switzerland 

tree-shaded  meadow  near  the  river,  where  the 
visitors  while  away  the  evening  with  dancing, 
singing  and  tossing  a  ball,  filled  with  little 
bells,  which  all  the  others  try  to  catch.  "  I 
think,"  says  the  envious  Poggio,  "  that  this 
must  be  the  place  where  the  first  man  was 
created,  which  the  Hebrews  call  Gamedon,  which 
means  '  garden  of  pleasure.'  For  if  pleasure 
can  make  life  blessed,  I  do  not  see  what  this 
place  lacks  of  perfection  and  of  the  completest 
happiness." 

Even  in  Poggio's  day  the  value  of  the  waters 
of  Baden  in  overcoming  sterility  were  recognised, 
and  crowds  of  women  flocked  thither  with  that 
end  in  view.  But  the  gay  life  attracted  even 
more  of  all  ranks  and  both  sexes  from  every  corner 
of  the  world.  "  Lovers  and  their  mistresses, 
and  all  the  butterflies  of  Ufe  crowd  to  the  place 
to  enjoy  the  pleasures  they  desire.  Many  feign 
sickness  of  the  body,  whose  only  malady  is  of 
the  imagination.  You  will  see  many  beautiful 
women,  without  husbands  or  relatives,  with  two 
maids  and  one  serving-man,  or  some  ancient 
cousin  or  chaperon  whom  it  is  easier  to  deceive 
than  to  entertain.  And  most  of  them  arrive  in 
garments  heavy  with  gold  and  silver,  and  decked 
out  with  jewels  ;  so  that  you  would  imagine  them 
to  have  come  for  some  splendid  wedding  rather 
than  to  a  watering-place. 

Hither  also  come  vestal  virgins,  or  to  speak 

122 


<( 


An  Old  Swiss  Watering-Place 

more  truly  virgin  priestesses  of  Flora.  Hither 
come  abbots,  monks,  friars  and  priests  who  live 
with  more  licence  than  the  other  visitors  :  when 
they  bathe  at  the  same  time  as  the  women,  they 
throw  aside  all  their  religion,  and  twist  their  hair 
with  silken  ribbons.  It  is  the  one  object  of  all 
to  flee  from  sadness,  to  pursue  happiness,  to 
think  of  nothing  but  how  to  live  joyously,  and 
to  drink  the  cup  of  pleasure  to  +he  dregs.  They 
do  not  bother  about  dividing  up  the  common 
stock  of  happiness,  but  seek  to  lavish  on  all  what 
is  individual." 

And  so  the  light-hearted  mediaeval  crowd 
passes  before  our  eyes,  their  joyous  hedonism  in 
happy  contrast  to  the  repression  and  asceticism 
that  passed — and  still  passes — for  virtue.  "  It 
is  wonderful,"  exclaims  the  astonished  Italian 
traveller,  "  how  in  so  great  a  throng  of  nearly  a 
thousand  men,  of  manners  the  most  diverse,  no 
quarrels  arise,  no  discords,  no  brawls  nor  disagree- 
ments. Husbands  see  their  wives  caressed,  see 
them  alone  with  strangers,  and  are  in  no  wise 
troubled  or  amazed.  AU  this  seems  natural 
to  their  .affectionate  minds.  And  so  jealousy, 
which  torments  most  husbands,  has  no  place 
whatever  among  them.  Its  name  is  neither 
known  nor  heard.  .  .  . 

"  Easily  contented  these  people  live  from  day 
to  day,  turning  each  day  into  a  festival,  without 
seeking  after  great  riches;  what  wealth  they  have, 

123 


Switzerland 

they  enjoy,  fearing  nothing  for  the  future.  If 
misfortune  comes  to  them,  they  bear  it  bravely. 
They  have  a  motto  which  makes  them  wealthy  : 
'  He  alone  has  lived,  who  has  lived  joyously.'  " 

And  so  regretfully  Poggio  Bracciolini  passes 
on  his  journey  to  less  idyllic  spots. 

Some  time  within  the  succeeding  century 
the  frequenters  of  this  Swiss  Eden  must  have 
eaten  of  the  forbidden  fruit.  My  lord  of 
Montaigne,  who  visited  the  place  in  1580,  assures 
us  that  "  ladies  who  are  fain  to  take  their  bath 
with  daintiness  and  decency  can  repair  to  Baden 
with  confidence,  for  they  will  be  alone  in  the 
bath,  which  is  like  an  elegant  cabinet,  light  with 
glazed  windows,  painted  panelling,  and  clean 
flooring.  Everywhere  are  chairs  and  small 
tables  for  reading  or  gaming  while  in  the  bath. 
The  bather  may  empty  and  fill  the  bath  as  often 
as  he  likes,  and  will  find  a  chamber  adjoining. 
These  baths  are  placed  high  in  a  valley  com- 
manded by  the  slopes  of  high  mountains,  which 
nevertheless  are  fertile  and  well  cultivated.  The 
water  when  drunk  tastes  rather  flat  and  soft, 
like  water  heated  up,  and  there  is  a  smell  of 
sulphur  about  it,  and  a  certain  prickling  flavour 
of  salt.  Amongst  the  people  of  the  place  it  is 
chiefly  used  in  the  bath,  in  which  they  subject 
themselves  also  to  cupping  and  bleeding,  so 
that  I  have  at  times  seen  the  water  in  the  two 
public  baths  the  colour  of  blood.     Those  who 

124 


An  Old  Swiss  Watering-Place 

drink  it  by  habit  take  a  glass  or  two  at  the  most. 
The  guests  as  a  rule  stay  six  or  seven  weeks,  and 
some  or  other  frequent  the  baths  all  through 
the  summer.  No  country  sends  so  many  visitors 
as  Germany,  whence  come  great  crowds."  M.  de 
Montaigne  speaks  highly  of  the  accommodation 
provided  for  these  guests.  "  The  lodgment  is 
magnificent.  In  the  house  where  we  stayed 
three  hundred  mouths  had  to  be  fed  every  day  ; 
and  while  we  were  there,  beds  were  made  for 
one  hundred  and  seventy  sojourners.  It  pos- 
sessed seventeen  stoves  and  eleven  kitchens, 
and  in  the  house  adjoining  were  fifty  furnished 
chambers,  the  walls  of  all  the  rooms  being  hung 
with  the  coats-of-arms  of  all  the  gentry  who  had 
lodged  therein." 

The  itinerant  philosopher  mentions  that  there 
are  uncovered  public  baths,  frequented  by  poor 
folk.  Though  catering  for  all  tastes,  among 
others  for  these  of  "  ladies  of  daintiness  and 
decency,"  Baden  still  persisted  in  the  path  of 
primitive  innocence  and  made  a  feature  of 
mixed  bathing.  This  was  a  matter  of  much 
wonder  and  amusement  to  that  delightful  old 
traveller,  Thomas  Coryate,  the  Odcombian  leg- 
stretcher,  who  took  the  waters  here  in  August 
1608.  He  remarks,  like  Poggio,  on  the  extreme 
complaisancy  of  the  husbands  who  looked  on 
at  their  wives  "  not  only  talking  and  familiarly 
discoursing  with  other  men,  but  also  sporting 

125 


Switzerland 

after  a  very  pleasant  and  merry  manner.  For 
the  verie  name  of  jelousie  is  odious  in  this  place." 
Mr  Coryate  adds  that  notwithstanding  he  would 
never  get  accustomed  to  that  sort  of  thing  were 
he  a  married  man  !  "At  this  time  of  the  year," 
he  informs  us,  "  many  wooers  come  thither  to 
solace  themselves  with  their  beautiful  mistresses. 
Many  of  these  young  ladies  had  the  hair  of  their 
head  very  curiously  plaited  in  locks,  and  they 
wore  certaine  pretty  garlands  upon  their  heads 
made  of  fragrant  and  odoriferous  flowers.  A 
spectacle  exceeding  amorous." 

There  is  no  such  spectacle  at  the  present  day 
to  lure  the  traveller  from  the  town  of  Baden 
to  the  baths,  which,  I  was  informed,  lay  about 
a  mile  away.  Everything  there  is  conducted 
nowadays  with  that  regard  for  the  proprieties 
which  is  the  glory  of  the  Swiss  nation.  The 
thought  of  what  used  to  go  on  there  would 
cause  the  present  frequenters  to  blush  like  the 
Jungfrau  at  sundown.  The  place,  though  now 
so  demure  and  sedate,  is  still  extensively  patron- 
ised by  the  Swiss  themselves  and  occasional 
French  and  Germans.  There  is  a  kursaal ;  and 
a  kur  tax,  which  is  not  very  onerous  as  it  is 
payable  by  the  day  and  ranges  from  two  to  six 
pence  a  head  according  to  the  rank  of  the 
visitor's  hotel. 


i 


126 


LUCERNE,    TO-DAY    AND    LONG    AGO 

Lucerne  and  Geneva,  the  two  great  strongholds 
of  Switzerland's  rival  creeds,  have  been  cap- 
tured by  the  world,  if  not  by  its  traditional 
allies,  and  are  the  gayest  and  most  frivolous  of 
Swiss  cities.  The  Catholic  capital  had  never 
assumed  the  virtuous  airs  of  the  Protestant 
Rome,  and  has  therefore  lost  less  of  its  original 
character  in  accepting  its  later  destiny.  Lucerne 
remains  Catholic  while  she  welcomes  the  Gentile, 
the  Jew,  and  the  heretic  with  open  arms. 
She  cherishes  old  traditions,  while  she  turns  a 
smiling  face  to  the  world — a  white  fa9ade  of 
gorgeous  modern  hotels  with  a  kursaal,  the  very 
rendezvous  of  fashion  and  levity,  prominent 
among  them.  Truly  there  is  nothing  austere 
or  forbidding  about  this  little  city  set  on  the 
shore  of  its  green  lake,  embosomed  in  yet 
greener  hills,  and  flanked  by  tall  white-capped 
mountains.  Lucerne  is  used  to  strangers.  Her 
importance  rose  and  fell  with  the  rate  of  traffic 
over  the  St  Gotthard,  and  to-day  she  is  the 
vortex  of  the  tourist  whirl,  the  centre  of  the 
foreigner  industry. 

In  winter  no  deader  spot  can  well  be  imagined 
than  this.     The  hotels  are  shuttered,   all  the 

127 


Switzerland 

shops  near  them  closed.  The  Hon  sculptured 
in  the  rock — Lucerne's  chief  monument — ^is 
carefully  packed  up  behind  sacking  and  canvas. 
Ice  blocks  float  in  the  dark  green  river,  a  mist 
veils  all  the  mountains.  In  the  streets  you 
meet  very  few  people,  and  these  are  the  sombrest 
figures.  The  men  are  cloaked  and  hooded, 
the  women  seem  to  be  wearing  all  their  frocks 
and  petticoats  at  one  time,  with  the  dullest, 
drabbest  outermost.  Dante  would  be  baffled 
to  describe  a  gloom  so  Cimmerian.  It  is  a  kind 
of  Eskimo's  hell.  You  hurry  to  the  railway 
station  to  inquire  the  next  train  to  anywhere 
else. 

But  in  summer  the  town  is  gleaming  white 
and  dazzlingly  sunny,  and  uncommonly  stuffy 
at  times.  The  tourist  is  in  full  possession.  He 
and  she  are  of  all  possible  varieties.  Juno-like 
Viennese  ladies  swim  through  bevies  of  charming 
but  dumpy  Parisiennes,  graceful  but  immature 
Englishwomen,  smart  but  crude  American  girls. 
You  are  brushed  aside  by  a  very  assertive 
couple  from  the  Fatherland — a  bulky  dame  in  a 
drab  ulster  with  a  peaked  cap  set  on  her  flaxen 
curls,  accompanied  by  a  fat  man  breaking  out 
of  a  light  frock-coat  suit,  with  which  he  has  the 
effrontery  to  wear  a  bowler  hat.  This  interest- 
ing couple  are  usually  followed  by  one  or  more 
backfisch — gawky  damsels  of  fifteen  or  sixteen 
summers,  very  bony,  and  with  little   promise 

128 


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CO 


Lucerne,  To-Day  and  Long  Ago 

as  yet  of  bulking  like  mamma,  but  probably 
wearing  spectacles  like  papa.  These  odd  and 
rather  unkindly  treated  types  we  are  pleased 
to  take  as  representative  of  their  great  nation, 
just  as  the  French  still  cling  to  Caran  d' Ache's 
caricature  of  us  Britons.  As  likely  as  not,  the 
lilylike  woman,  exquisitely  gowned,  who  passed 
just  now,  escorted  by  a  man  of  the  Lewis  Waller 
type,  are  Germans  also.  The  specimens  we 
have  met  most  often  form  our  conception  of  a 
national  type.  The  German  who  had  spent 
his  stay  in  England  in  one  of  his  Majesty's 
prisons  would  have  as  correct  an  impression 
of  English  people  as  most  travellers  with  their 
limited  experience  obtain.  We  have  some  un- 
prepossessing representatives  at  Lucerne  in  the 
shape  of  the  cheapest  trippers.  I  understand 
that  benevolent  agencies  will  give  you  a  week  in 
"  Lovely  Lucerne  "  and  bring  you  back  again  for 
four  and  a  half  guineas — not  much  more  than 
'Arry  would  spend  in  twice  the  time  at  Margate. 
And  'Arry  often  avails  himself  of  these  facilities. 
He  is  housed  generally  at  chalets  and  pensions 
well  outside  the  town,  but  he  strolls  into  it, 
with  a  cricket  cap  on  his  head,  a  "  quiff  "  or  curl 
over  his  low  forehead,  a  low  collar  displaying  his 
manly  neck,  a  quiet  tweed  suit,  and  very  yellow 
boots.  He  has  a  habit  of  straying  into  the 
most  expensive  tea-shops  —  even  occasionally 
restaurants — and  setting  the  whole  place  in  an 
I  129 


Switzerland 

uproar  when  his  bill  is  presented.  He  is  firmly 
persuaded  that  he  is  being  swindled  whenever 
he  is  asked  to  pay  for  anything.  He  is  always 
inquiring  for  English  steak  and  for  "  Guinness  " 
and  "  small  Bass,"  though  he  knew  quite  well 
before  he  started  that  he  would  not  be  able  to 
obtain  them.  He  generally  buys  a  great 
quantity  of  Swiss  cigars,  and  induces  his  com- 
panions to  do  the  same.  Englishmen  of  all 
ranks,  it  must  be  admitted,  talk  as  much  about 
tobacco  as  the  Italians  do  about  food  and 
Englishwomen  about  dress.  The  English  cheap 
tripper,  then,  is  not  a  very  dignified  or  pleasing 
type,  but  he  is  immeasurably  superior  to  the 
corresponding  type  of  any  other  nationality. 
He  can  eat  his  food  without  disgusting  his 
neighbours,  he  is  well  washed  and  clear  skinned, 
and  has  a  certain  pride  in  his  appearance  and 
self-respect.  I  admit  that  the  low-class  English- 
man can  be  a  vulgar  brute  enough,  and  that  in 
no  country  in  the  world  do  women  stare  more 
insolently  and  insult  each  other  by  stage  whispers 
more  outrageously  than  in  England  ;  but  for 
sheer  unadulterated  brutish  vulgarity  the  low- 
class  Parisian  and  Berlin  'Arry  can  easily  bear 
away  the  palm  from  the  Cockney. 

Herded  with  these  vulgarians  are  often 
noticed  trippers  of  a  very  different  stamp. 
Lucerne,  like  the  Normandy  coast,  is  specially 
attractive  to  people  whose  travel-hunger  is  out 

130 


Lucerne,  To-Day  and  Long  Ago 

of  all  proportion  to  their  means.  There  are 
earnest  young  men  from  the  English  midlands, 
insatiably  curious  for  foreign  sights  and  scenes, 
and*  pathetically  anxious  to  make  their  money 
go  literally  as  far  as  third-class  trains  will  take 
it.  There  are  governesses  and  elderly  unmarried 
women,  too,  whose  sole  glimpse  of  life  and 
reality  consists  in  these  annual  trips  abroad. 
These  are  the  correspondents  who  harass  "  the 
travel  editors  "  of  our  illustrated  journals  with 
inquiries  after  pensions  at  three  to  four  francs  a 
day  and  as  to  the  possibility  of  travelling  across 
Spain  or  Hungary  third-class.  They  advertise 
in  the  same  columns  for  companions  of  similarly 
ambitious  and  inexpensive  tastes.  Some  of 
these  "  Constant  Readers  "  and  "  Poor  Gentle- 
women "  do  not  seem  to  care  where  they  go, 
so  long  as  it  is  "  on  the  Continent."  And  the 
patient  travel  editor,  realising  this,  will  recom- 
mend them  to  a  "  nice,  extremely  moderate 
place,  very  quiet  "  such  as  Morges  or  Isleten 
or  Bourgy-les-Epinards,  which  he  is  "  sure  they 
would  like,"  with  "  an  English  Church  service," 
where  they  can  live  in  a  respectable  pension 
for  ladies  only  at  fifteen  francs  a  week.  Not  a 
very  enjoyable  holiday,  one  would  think  ;  but 
to  some  of  these  quiet  gentlefolk  it  means  an 
adventure  and  brings  a  spice  of  romance  into 
withered,  arid  Hves. 

Travel  or  residence  abroad  under  such  con- 

131 


Switzerland 

ditions  is,  of  course,  quite  a  different  thing  from 
being  "in  a  fix  "  or  "  getting  landed,"  an  ex- 
perience which  most  globe-trotters  rather  enjoy. 
In  what  the  Germans  would  call  my  "  wander- 
years,"  I  found  myself  at  Coblenz  with  about 
five  shillings  more  than  my  fare  to  a  town  in 
France  where  I  wanted  to  go  or  to  a  place  in 
England  where  I  didn't.  About  three  of  these 
shillings  I  spent  on  a  reply-paid  telegram  to  my 
French  friends,  asking  them  to  telegraph  at 
once  if  I  could  come  or  not.  The  reply  was  to 
be  addressed  to  me  at  the  post-ofhce.  I  was 
told  by  the  clerk  I  might  expect  it  within  an 
hour.  It  did  not  come  in  an  hour,  or  two  hours. 
I  began  to  get  anxious  and  even  more  hungry. 
I  invested  a  mark  in  luncheon,  walked  about 
the  Gobenplatz  and  the  Rheinanlagen,  and 
called  at  the  post-office  every  half-hour.  No 
reply  came  by  the  time  the  office  closed.  I  had 
now  one  mark  to  spare.  I  spent  it  on  a  bed. 
My  reply,  "  Venez  de  suite,"  was  awaiting  mef 
at  the  office  next  morning.  On  consulting  the 
fare-table  at  the  station  I  found  I  had,  after  all, 
two  marks  and  a  few  pfennig  more  than  the 
price  of  a  third-class  ticket.  But  I  had  to  live 
during  nearly  twenty-four  hours  !  I  solved  the 
problem  by  ir3.ve\lmg  fourth-class  to  the  German 
frontier  and  by  living  on  dry  biscuits  and  water 
throughout  that  long,  hot  journey. 

I  am  quite  sure  that  many  of  the  strangers 

132 


Lucerne,  To-Day  and  Long  Ago 

one  sees  at  Lucerne  have  never  been  in 
such  straits.  MingUng  with  the  economically- 
'  disposed  tourists  I  have  mentioned  are  those 
splendid  and  opulent  persons  who  have  succeeded 
the  travelling  milords  of  the  post-and-courier 
days,  and  seem  to  spend  all  their  lives  in  motor 
cars  and  first-class  hotels.  Before  the  motor 
was  invented  these  people  must  have  lived  in 
the  hotels  and  sleeping-cars  instead,  for  no  one 
ever  met  them  walking  or  driving.  Their  views 
of  the  country  even  now  must  be  mainly  de- 
rived from  the  windows  of  such  caravanserais 
as  the  National  and  the  Axenstein.  They  think 
in  terms  of  hotels  rather  than  towns,  and  never 
stay  long  anywhere,  except  at  Nice  or  Monte 
Carlo.  While  every  English  person  wants  to 
be  like  them,  the  Swiss  hotel  proprietors  and 
chefs,  who  see  so  much  of  them  and  are  on  such 
familiar  terms  with  them,  have  no  such  ambition. 
The  Swiss  want  to  be  rich,  not  elegant  or  smart. 
Perhaps,  also,  this  is  because  society  outside 
the  Anglo-Saxon  world  is  divided  vertically,  not 
horizontally.  A  man  rises  within  his  own 
section,  along  his  own  ladder  of  life — from  a 
humble  hotel  servant  he  rises  to  be  a  big  hotel 
proprietor,  just  as  the  little  artist  aspires  to 
the  rank  of  a  great  artist.  Each  aims  at 
eminence  in  his  own  calling.  With  us  it  is 
different.  Men  of  all  professions  aim  at  the 
same   goal,  and  none  thinks  himself  successful 

133 


Switzerland 

till  he  is  received,  not  by  the  heads  of  his  own 
profession,  but  by  the  governing,  supreme  set, 
Society  with  the  large  S.  In  Switzerland  every 
bear  climbs  his  own  pole. 

At  Lucerne  the  kursaal  is  a  common  meeting- 
place  for  all  sorts  of  visitors,  of  all  nationali- 
ties. The  five-guinea  trippers  come  there,  with 
their  caps  crammed  in  their  pockets,  to  risk  a 
five-franc  piece  on  the  chance  of  the  spinning 
pea,  and  feel  that  they  are  gamblers  indeed. 
They  rub  shoulders  with  enormous  Hebrews  in 
"  smokings,"  as  the  French  call  dinner-jackets, 
and  with  their  beshawled,  white-shouldered 
womenfolk.  Casinos  and  gambling  places  re- 
semble each  other  very  much  all  the  world  over, 
but  here  you  soon  perceive  that  the  gamesters 
are  not  in  earnest  and  that  no  one  is  likely,  in 
consequence  of  big  losses,  to  pitch  himself  into 
the  lake  just  outside.  From  the  windows  of  the 
big  hotels  often  proceeds  a  sound  of  revelry 
by  night ;  the  foreigners  are  dancing  even  in 
Lucerne,  which  used  to  frown  on  such  dangerous 
frivolity  and  limited  it  to  three  or  four  days  in 
the  year. 

The  strains  of  the  "  Merry  Widow  "  penetrate 
even  the  cloisters  of  the  mother  church  of  the 
canton,  dedicated  to  the  patron  saint  of  sports- 
men, St  Leger,  or  St  Leodegar,  a  name  from 
which  philologists,  in  a  way  known  only  to 
themselves,    derive    that    of    the    town.     The 

134 


Lucerne,  To-Day  and  Long  Ago 

church  keeps  abreast  of  the  times  and  has  organ 
recitals  every  evening,  which  you  pay  a  franc 
to  hear.  The  building  dates  only  from  the 
sixteenth  century — the  towers  are  so  old — but 
as  a  foundation  dates  from  750,  when  a  monastery 
of  Benedictines  was  established  here.  This  was 
the  beginning  of  Lucerne.  A  small  fishing 
village  sprang  up,  which  in  1291  was  sold,  with 
other  Swiss  fiefs,  by  the  abbot  Berchtold  to  the 
house  of  Hapsburg.  This  change  of  masters  led 
to  the  formation  of  the  league  between  the 
forest  cantons,  which  Lucerne  herself  was  slow 
to  join.  Indeed,  her  men  attacked  Unterwalden 
when  the  men  of  that  canton  were  helping  their 
confederates  at  Morgarten.  In  1332,  however, 
the  town  joined  the  league,  and  won  a  recogni- 
tion of  partial  independence  from  her  overlord. 
Some  of  the  citizens  still  hankered  after  the 
Austrian  yoke.  In  1343  they  met  to  betray 
their  native  town,  in  a  vault  under  the  Tailors' 
Gildhouse.  A  boy  chanced  to  penetrate  into 
the  cellar.  "  Hearing  the  sound  of  muttering," 
writes  Etterlin,  the  old  chronicler,  "  and  the 
clashing  of  arms,  he  was  afraid  and  thought  the 
place  haunted,  and  turned  to  flee  ;  but  some  men 
gave  chase,  and  held  him  fast.  They  threatened 
his  life,  that  he  should  tell  no  man  what  he  had 
seen.  He  promised  and  went  with  them.  And 
thus  he  heard  their  deliberations.  And  when 
no  one  more  gave  heed  unto  him,  he  quietly 

135 


Switzerland 

crept  from  thence,  went  up  the  steps  by  the 
house  of  the  tailors  into  the  street,  and  looked 
about  if  he  might  see  a  light.  This  he  saw  in 
the  Guild  room  of  the  butchers,  where  the  men 
were  wont  to  sit  up  later  than  in  other  rooms. 
He  went  in,  and  saw  many  men  drinking  and 
playing.  Here  he  sat  him  down  behind  the 
stove,  and  began  to  say  :  '  Oh  !  stove,  stove  ! ' 
But  no  one  gave  heed  unto  him.  Then  cried 
he  again  :  '  Oh  !  stove,  stove  !  May  I  speak  ?  ' 
The  men  now  became  aware  of  his  presence, 
mocked  him  and  thought  him  mad,  and  asked 
him  who  he  was  and  what  he  wanted.  '  Oh ! 
nothing,  nothing,'  was  his  answer.  Then  began 
he  a  third  time  and  said  :  '  Oh  !  stove,  stove  !  I 
must  make  my  complaint  to  thee,  since  I  may 
speak  to  no  man — to-night  there  are  men 
gathered  under  the  great  vault  at  the  corner,  who 
are  going  to  commit  murder.'  As  soon  as  the 
men  heard  that,  they  ran  out  in  great  haste,  gave 
the  alarm,  made  prisoners  of  the  conspirators, 
and  forced  them  to  swear  fealty." 

Lucerne  soon  became  impatient  even  of 
Austria's  merely  nominal  claims  upon  her  allegi- 
ance. In  1386  Duke  Leopold  advanced  with  a 
mighty  army  to  chastise  his  rebellious  vassals. 
The  confederates  rallied  in  defence  of  their  ally, 
and  on  9th  July  defeated  and  killed  the  Duke 
on  the  little  plateau  above  Sempach.  With 
the  banners  and  spoils  taken  on  that  memorable 

136 


Lucerne,  To-Day  and  Long  Ago 

day  the  Lucerners  were  able  to  decorate  their 
town  for  many  a  long  year  after.  Entlibuch, 
Kriens,  and  Horw  were  brought  under  their 
rule,  and  within  the  next  hundred  years  the 
canton  had  acquired  its  present  dimensions. 

The  old  town  to-day  lies  close  against  the 
swirling  Reuss,  and  with  its  picturesque  old 
houses,  painted  and  gabled,  probably  does  not 
greatly  differ  in  aspect  from  its  fifteenth  or 
sixteenth  century  self.  The  first  house  of  stone 
in  Lucerne  was  built  in  1398,  and  thereafter 
building  a  stone  house  was,  says  Mr  Sowerby,^ 
often  made  a  condition  of  admission  to  citizen- 
ship. "  The  houses  being  at  first  entirely  of 
wood,  the  regulations  to  prevent  fires  were  very 
strict.  No  wood,  whether  for  building  or  burn- 
ing, was  to  remain  more  than  one  night  in  the 
street.  Between  vespers  and  early  mass,  no 
smith's  work  was  allowed,  no  threshing  or 
winnowing,  no  working  with  tow  or  melted 
tallow,  and  no  juniper  wood  or  small  twigs  might 
be  burned.  The  fire  brigade  was  composed 
of  citizens,  who  in  case  of  a  fire  had  to  remain 
until  dismissed  by  the  mayor  [schultheiss] ;  the 
women  had  to  stand  at  the  doors  of  their  houses 
with  lights  ;  the  members  of  the  Klein  and  Gross 
Rath,  armed  with  axes,  formed  a  guard.  The 
gates  were  closed  every  night  at  curfew,  and  the 
streets  patrolled  by  one  member  of  the  Klein 
^  "  The  Forest  Cantons." 
137 


Switzerland 

Rath,  two  of  the  Gross  Rath,  three  citizens,  and 
a  sergeant  [weibel].  Not  until  1764,  at  the 
instance  of  Valentin  Meyer,  the  town  council 
employed  a  paid  watch  and  guard  of  150  men, 
and  the  members  of  the  council  could  sleep 
undisturbed." 

Against  human  foes  the  town  was  protected 
on  the  land  side  by  the  wall  with  nine  towers, 
which  still  remains.  The  wall  dates  from  1385, 
but  the  Zeitthurm  or  Clock  Tower  is  believed 
to  be  a  hundred  years  older  and  to  have  been 
erected  on  the  site  of  the  little  castle  of  Tannen- 
berg.  Only  thirty  marks  silver  were  paid  in 
compensation  for  the  demolition  of  this  strong- 
hold. There  was  another  "  castle  "  where  the 
Nollithurm  now  stands,  and  there  the  Abbot  of 
Marbach,  the  superior  of  the  prior  of  Lucerne, 
was  received  with  befitting  ceremony  by  his 
vassals.  The  Musegg  hill,  on  which  these  towers 
stand,  is  the  scene,  every  25th  of  March,  of  the 
procession  called  the  Romfahrt,  instituted  about 
1250.  It  took  the  place  of  an  annual  pilgrimage 
to  Rome,  to  return  thanks  for  the  deliverance 
of  the  town  from  a  fire.  "  The  procession  has 
only  twice  failed  to  take  place  on  the  appointed 
day.  In  1653  it  was  deferred  until  July  25th 
on  account  of  the  peasant  war,  and  in  1785,  on 
account  of  the  deep  snow,  it  was  put  off  till 
March  27th,  and  then  only  took  place  in  the 
town.     The   priest   who   delivered   the   sermon 

138 


I     Lucerne,  To-Day  and  Long  Ago 

in  1553  was  Domitas  Hurilaeus,  Archbishop  of 
Cashel,  who  was  afterwards  murdered." 
The  Swiss  are  and  always  have  been  as  fond 

'  of  hoHdays  and  pubhc  ceremonies  as  the  modern 
EngHsh.     On    the    Wednesday    and    Thursday 

'  after  Easter  a  miracle  play  was  enacted  every 
five  years  in  the  Wine  Market,  where  Lux's 
pretty  fountain  now  stands.  The  stage  was 
provided  by  the  municipahty,  which  entertained 
all  visitors  at  its  own  expense.  This  lavish 
hospitahty  proved  so  costly  that  the  play  was 
given  up  early  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
There  was,  however,  always  plenty  of  money  in 
Lucerne.  The  famous  Ludwig  Pfyffer,  who  took 
part  in  the  French  religious  wars,  was  worth 
three  quarters  of  a  million  of  our  money  and 
was  nicknamed  the  Swiss  King.  The  gilds  were 
very  wealthy,  and  upon  their  extinction  in  1870 
were  able  to  distribute  considerable  sums  among 
their  members.  These  corporations  often  in- 
cluded several  district  trades.  The  Safran  Gild 
was  composed  of  crafts  as  diverse  as  sculptors 
and  ropemakers,  and  was  named  after  one  of 
its  members  who  had  distinguished  himself  in 
the  Burgundian  wars.  In  his  honour  the  gild 
organised  a  procession  on  the  last  Thursday  of 
carnival  known  as  the  "  Fritschi-auszug,"  which 
was  at  one  time  a  march  past  of  all  the  able- 
bodied  men  of  the  town. 

Life  seems  to  have  been  jolly  enough  in  the 

139 


Switzerland 

quaint  old  town,  though  from  time  to  time  the 
city  fathers,  as  elsewhere  in  these  days,  exerted 
themselves  to  make  everybody  solemn  and 
glum.  The  wealthy  Pfyffers,  many  of  whom 
had  served  in  the  French  Guards,  did  much  to 
make  things  lively  ;  so  also  did  the  few  Italian 
families  settled  in  the  town.  The  council  passed 
stupid  laws  against  card-playing,  regulating 
dress,  and  so  forth,  but  no  one  dared  to  enforce 
these  against  the  aristocratic  families.  The 
townsmen's  daughters,  however,  were  limited  to 
two  or  three  dances  a  year,  and  forced  to  carry 
on  their  flirtations  as  best  they  could  in  the 
shadow  of  the  covered-in  bridges. 

The  oldest  of  these  was  the  Hofbriicke,  which 
existed  in  one  form  or  another  since  853,  and 
was  demolished  in  1857.  It  was  over  thirteen 
hundred  feet  in  length  and  extended  from  the 
southern  end  of  the  modern  Seebriicke  to  a  point 
now  some  distance  inland  from  the  lake.  It 
was  decorated,  like  the  remaining  bridges  of  the 
period,  with  paintings,  in  this  case  from  sacred 
history,  bearing  the  names  of  the  donors  or 
restorers.  Upon  it  was  a  chapel  built  by  the 
famous  Swiss  King.  His  arms  were  subse- 
quently removed  from  the  structure,  when  his 
heirs  had  refused  to  bear  the  cost  of  restoration. 
This  bridge  was  the  favourite  promenade  of  the 
Lucerners,  and  must  have  closely  resembled 
the  two  existing  wooden  bridges  which  span  the 

140 


«       e  c     c       f       c  f 


c        c  c 

c  t      c  c 

re     c  « 

c  "^    e  c  c' 


c  c  e  c  c       t       c 


Lucerne,  To-Day  and  Long  Ago 

river  lower  down.  The  Kapellbriicke  forms  a 
very  obtuse  angle,  pointing  towards  the  lake. 
It  dates  from  1355,  and  was  decorated  at  the 
beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century  with  about 
two  hundred  pictures  illustrative  of  Swiss  history. 
Each  member  of  the  council  undertook  the  cost 
of  one  painting,  and  was  careful  to  establish  his 
connection  with  it  as  far  as  possible.  Thus, 
as  Mr  Sowerby  explains,  John  H.  Pfyffer 
chose  for  the  subject  of  his  picture  the  gym- 
nasium founded  by  his  ancestor;  L.  von  Wyl, 
the  Mordnacht  or  massacre  resulting  from  the 
conspiracy  of  1343,  because  it  was  supposed  to 
have  taken  place  near  his  house.  One  of  these 
compositions  represents  the  execution  of  two 
Christian  martyrs  near  Soleure  by  means  of  an 
instrument  resembling  the  guillotine.  Some  of 
these  paintings  have  been  placed  in  the  galleries 
of  the  old  Wasserthurm,  at  the  angle  of  the 
bridge,  the  lighthouse  from  which,  according 
to  some,  the  town  derived  its  name,  and  which 
now  houses  the  municipal  archives. 

This  bridge  must  have  been,  from  the  nature  of 
its  decoration,  a  more  agreeable  lounging  place 
than  the  Spreuerbriicke,  lower  down,  which  was 
rebuilt  in  1566.  In  whichever  direction  you 
traverse  this  bridge  your  eyes  are  met  by  one 
of  the  pieces  composing  the  famous  "  Dance  of 
Death,"  placed  back  to  back  in  the  angle  formed 
by   the   pitched   wooden   roof.     These   ghastly 

141 


Switzerland 

pictures  were  painted,  for  the  edification  of  the 
inhabitants,  by  Caspar  MegHnger  in  1626,  at 
the  expense  of  various  pious  townsmen,  and 
were  restored  by  one,  Hunkeler,  in  1727.  One 
represents  a  wedding  feast;  Death,  personified 
as  a  hideous  skeleton  in  the  costume  of  the 
artist's  period,  is  waiting  with  his  scythe  to  cut 
down  the  bride  at  the  entrance  to  the  nuptial 
chamber.  In  another,  the  same  grinning  spectre 
appears  behind  the  cradle  of  a  smiling  infant. 
Farther  on,  you  see  a  knight  galloping  away 
from  a  stricken  field,  unaware  that  Death  is 
seated  behind  him  on  his  saddle.  Elsewhere 
the  skeleton  is  seen  driving  a  holiday  party ; 
you  see  him  arraying  a  lady  for  a  ball,  serving 
at  table,  appearing,  in  short,  in  almost  every 
conceivable  situation  in  everyday  human  life, 
conducting  popes,  emperors,  kings,  nobles,  mer- 
chants, peasants,  old  men,  young  men,  wives, 
and  virgins,  in  one  fantastic  capering  cotillon 
to  the  grave. 

The  series  is  well  known  to  students  of 
mediaeval  art.  It  reappears  all  over  northern 
Europe  and  was  painted  at  Bale  by  Holbein. 
"  In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death  "  was  a 
theme  on  which  the  mediaeval  mind  never  tired 
of  gloating.  The  pagans  saw  the  grandeur  and 
sadness  of  death,  the  Christians  only  its  horror 
and     corruption.     The     Church,    which    never 

ceased  to  insist  on  the  baseness  of  the  body, 

142 


Lucerne,   To-Day  and   Long  Ago 

found  an  excellent  ally  in  the  skeleton  with  the 
scythe.  It  pleased  the  miserable  monk,  starving 
in  his  filthy  rags,  to  reflect  that  the  proud 
knight  and  the  lovely  lady  would  one  day  be 
the  prey  of  worms.  The  vilest  of  the  human 
species  delighted  in  the  certainty  that  the 
noblest  would  one  day  be  a  festering  mass  of 
corruption.  Roman  Catholic  books  of  devotion 
are  full  of  the  sentiment ;  it  inspires,  for  that 
matter,  half  the  hymns  of  all  the  Christian 
churches.  Flesh  is  vile  ;  human  nature  is  evil ; 
woman  must  be  cleansed  by  canonical  processes 
from  the  guilt  of  motherhood ;  all  humanity  must 
end  in  the  mouldering  corpse.  How  different 
from  the  bright  saying  of  the  Mohammedans  : 
"  There  is  nothing  the  wise  man  thinks  of  less 
than  death  !  " 

The  "  bance  of  Death  "  here  represented  was 
at  its  conception  performed  by  living  actors.  It 
formed  one  of  the  mystery  plays  of  the  devout 
mumbling  Middle  Ages,  and  in  1424  was  "  pro- 
duced "  at  Paris  in  an  appropriate  theatre — 
the  cemetery  of  the  Innocents.  At  the  time  of 
the  English  occupation,  when  Francois  Villon 
saw  the  world  as  a  vast  thieves'  kitchen,  and 
wolves,  four-legged  as  well  as  human ,  preyed 
on  the  citizens,  a  procession  defiled  through 
the  streets  headed  by  a  skeleton  seated  on  a 
jewelled  throne.  Something  of  this  morbid 
humour  has  survived  in  the  so-called  gay  city 

143 


Switzerland 

to  this  day,  as  visitors  to  the  tourist-ridden 
haunts  of  Montmartre  well  know.  It  is  still 
considered  good  fun  in  some  Italian  carnivals 
to  masquerade  as  a  corpse ;  but  humanity  at 
last  recoiled  from  mimicking  the  triumph  of 
its  implacable  foe,  and  the  edifying  pageant 
was  presented  only  by  the  painter  and  the 
carver. 

I  sat  on  that  quaint  old  bridge  at  Lucerne 
and  extracted  some  amusement  from  the  gro- 
tesque pictures  expressly  designed  to  terrify 
worldlings.  I  doubt  if  the  tourists  trip  it  any 
the  less  lightly  at  the  National  for  being  re- 
minded that  they  are  mortal  and  that  flesh  is 
vile.  For  that  matter,  cremation  enables  us  to 
escape  the  indignities  of  the  grave  and  to  cheat 
that  worm  to  whom  priests  so  lovingly  refer. 
Ruskin,  meditating  on  this  bridge,  compares  our 
modern  life  unfavourably  with  that  of  the  old 
Lucerners,  "  with  all  its  happy  waves  of  light 
and  mountain  strength  of  will,  and  solemn 
expectation  of  eternity."  Yet  none  that  knows 
the  history  of  Switzerland  can  say  that  those 
grave  persons  were  better  men  than  their 
descendants.  The  vanity  of  life,  forsooth  !  it 
was  this  soul-soddening  lie  that  made  our 
forefathers  so  brutally  indifferent  to  the  welfare 
of  their  kind,  and  absolutely  reckless  of  the 
interests  of  posterity.     The  man  with  a  sound 

race    instinct    is    little    concerned    about    the 

144 


Lucerne,  To-Day  and  Long  Ago 

duration  of  his  individual  life,  but  he  does  not 
talk  about  its  vanity.  In  the  expectation  of 
eternity  he  is  not  likely  to  forget  the  value  of 
time.  Then  "let  us  take  hands  and  help,  for 
to-day  we  are  alive  together." 


K  145 


THE    LION    OF    LUCERNE 

Fifty  or  sixty  years  ago,  I  have  been  told, 
visitors  were  introduced  to  the  Lion  of  Lucerne 
by  a  veteran  clad  in  the  scarlet  uniform — sadly 
patched  and  faded — of  the  famous  Swiss  Guards 
of  the  French  King.  This  old  man  could  hardly 
have  been  a  survivor  of  the  massacre  which  the 
monument  commemorates ;  he  had  probably 
belonged  to  the  corps  some  time  between  its 
re-estabhshment  by  Louis  XVI I L  and  its  final 
disbandment  after  the  Revolution  of  July.  The 
pride  which  he  no  doubt  took  in  the  valour  of 
his  fellows  on  the  memorable  loth  August  1792 
may  perhaps  be  shared  by  the  Swiss  to-day,  but 
if  the  monument  had  not  been  erected  in  the 
reactionary  twenties  of  last  century  I  very 
seriously  question  whether  it  would  ever  have 
been  erected  at  all.  For  it  is,  after  all,  a 
memorial  not  only  to  the  doglike  fidelity  of  the 
brave  mercenaries,  but  a  disagreeable  reminder 
of  the  days  when  the  cantons  hired  out  the 
flower  of  their  manhood  to  fight  and  bleed  in  the 
causes,  just  or  unjust,  of  foreign  powers.  Poor, 
mountainous  countries  seem  to  breed  mer- 
cenaries. The  Scots  were  as  fond  of  the  trade 
as  the  Switzers.     Where  a  man  has  nothing  else 

146 


I 


I 


The  Lion  of  Lucerne 

to  sell,  he  sells  his  strength  and  courage,  just  as 
woman  sells  her  beauty.  The  Swiss  troops  who 
figure  in  all  European  wars  from  the  fifteenth  to 
the  nineteenth  centuries  were  not  mercenaries, 
one  writer  hotly  affirms  :  they  were  recruited 
by  the  cantons  under  regular  treaties  with 
foreign  states,  they  were  organised  and  officered 
by  the  cantons,  they  fought  under  their  local 
banners.  To  these  conventions,  we  are  told, 
the  confederation  owed  its  immunity  from 
invasion.  In  reality,  thousands  of  Swiss  en- 
listed as  individuals  in  other  armies,  attracted 
by  the  hope  of  pay  and  plunder ;  but  the 
status  of  those  supplied  by  their  own  govern- 
ments in  fixed  contingents  to  foreign  despots 
seems  to  me  more  pitiable  and  ignoble  still. 
No  doubt  the  "  excellent  lords  "  of  "  the  praise- 
worthy cantons "  did  well  over  the  traffic. 
Louis  XIV. 's  minister  remarked  that  with  the 
gold  the  French  kings  had  paid  the  Swiss  you 
could  pave  a  road  from  Paris  to  Bale ;  whereupon 
a  Swiss  officer  retorted  that  with  all  the  blood 
shed  by  his  countrymen  in  the  French  service 
.  you  could  fill  a  canal  from  Bale  to  Paris.  One  is 
reminded  of  the  tribute  of  one  hundred  virgins 
which  the  Gothic  king  is  fabled  to  have  paid  the 
caliph  of  Cordova. 

There  is  hardly  a  banner  in  Europe  under 
which  the  Swiss  have  not  fought  for  hire — except, 
perhaps,  that  of  Uberty.     In  France,   Austria, 

147 


Switzerland 

Spain  and  Italy,  they  have  ever  distinguished 
themselves  as  the  tyrant's  most  faithful  watch- 
dogs, staunch  pillars  of  the  throne.  They 
possessed  the  special  virtue  of  the  mercenary — • 
they  were  true  to  the  hand  that  fed  them.  They 
were  ready  indeed  to  kill  each  other,  should 
duty  command,  though  now  and  again  blood 
proved  stronger  than  allegiance,  as  when  in  1500 
the  Swiss  basely  betrayed  their  employer,  the 
Duke  of  Milan,  to  their  countrymen  in  the 
French  service.  But  generally  it  was  found 
that  so  long  as  you  had  the  money,  you  had 
the  Swiss.  Sold  into  servitude  by  their  feudal 
owners  at  home,  they  obeyed  without  demur 
any  and  every  employer. 

France  was  always  the  most  liberal  customer 
of  their  Excellencies  of  the  cantons.  Between 
1477  and  1850  it  is  computed  that  no  fewer 
than  a  million  Swiss  served  in  the  armies  of 
France.  At  one  time  they  contributed  fully 
half  the  infantry.  It  was,  as  we  might  have 
guessed,  the  shrewd  Louis  XL  who  first  re- 
cognised the  value  of  such  auxiliaries  to  the 
French  crown.  Unflinchingly  brave,  without 
intelligence  or  scruple,  they  were  the  ideal 
Janissaries  of  a  would-be  absolute  king.  Charles 
VI 1 1,  trusted  them  so  well  that  he  formed  a 
special  bodyguard  called  the  Cent-Suisses,  dis- 
tinguished by  a  blue  uniform  with  red  facings. 
At  Paris  these  Guards  were  killed  to  the  hun- 

148 


The  Lion   of  Lucerne 

dredth  man,  defending  the  person  of  Francis  I. 
In  after  years  their  duties  became  mainly 
ceremonial  and  domestic.  They  were  employed 
chiefly  about  the  palace  and  at  Court  functions, 
much  as  the  Pope's  Swiss  Guards  are  to-day. 

It  was  Louis  XIII.  who  organised  an  effective 
fighting  force  of  Swiss  for  the  immediate  pro- 
tection of  the  sovereign.  Marshal  de  Bassom- 
pierre  was  the  first  colonel  of  this,  the  famous 
Swiss  Guard.  Originally  composed  of  twelve 
companies  which  mounted  guard  according  to 
the  precedence  of  their  respective  officer's 
cantons,  they  were  increased  in  1763  to  four 
battalions,  each  of  four  companies,  officered  by  a 
colonel,  a  lieutenant,  a  major,  four  aides-major, 
four  sous-aides-major,  and  eight  ensigns.  Their 
uniform  was  scarlet  with  blue  facings.  The 
officers  wore  high  silver-braided  collars.  The 
Guard  marched  with  the  artillery  and  formed  its 
escort.  It  had  many  privileges  and  received 
twice  the  pay  of  any  native  corps.  It  was  not 
bound  to  serve  against  Germany  beyond  the 
Rhine,  Italy  beyond  the  Alps,  or  Spain  beyond 
the  Pyrenees  ;  but,  in  fact,  it  very  often  over- 
stepped these  limits. 

"  A  corps  of  Swiss,"  said  Marshal  Schomberg, 
himself  a  soldier  of  fortune,  "is  in  a  French 
army  what  the  bones  are  to  the  human  body, 
not  only  on  account  of  their  valour,  but  especially 
because  of  their  patience  and  their  disciphne. 

149 


Switzerland 

They  are  discouraged  by  no  reverse  or  delay." 
"  They  have  never,"  says  another  writer,  "  been 
reproached  with  anything  but  their  insistence 
upon  being  regularly  paid.  Point  d'argent, 
point  de  Suisse,  says  the  proverb.  It  could  not 
be  otherwise.  In  the  Swiss  regiments  the  theft 
of  a  hen  was  punished  with  death.  With  such 
a  discipline,  regularity  of  pay  was  absolutely 
necessary." 

At  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution  there 
were  eleven  regiments  of  Swiss  in  the  French 
service  besides  the  Cent-Suisses  and  the  Guard. 
Some  of  these  troops  took  part  in  the  defence 
of  the  Bastille,  and  all  were  regarded  with  dislike 
and  suspicion  by  the  people.  The  Chateau vieux 
regiment,  however,  stationed  at  Nancy,  was 
stirred  by  the  rebellious  spirit  of  the  age,  and 
went  on  strike  for  better  pay,  and  the  abolition 
of  flogging.  They  were  attacked  by  the  ferocious 
Marquis  de  Bouille,  with  two  other  Swiss  regi- 
ments, and  subdued  after  a  fierce  struggle. 
Dog,  it  is  said,  will  not  eat  dog ;  but  at  the  court- 
martial  that  followed,  the  mutineers  were  sen- 
tenced by  their  fellow-countrymen,  one  to  be 
broken  on  the  wheel,  twenty-two  to  be  hanged, 
and  forty-one  to  the  galleys.  The  sentences  of 
death  were  at  once  executed.  An  appeal  was 
made  on  behalf  of  the  prisoners  to  their  own 
government  ;  but  that  detestable  little  oligarchy 
approved  the  sentences  and  declared  that  if  the 

150 


The   Lion  of  Lucerne 

men  were  pardoned  they  would  not  be  per- 
mitted to  re-enter  their  corps.  Notwithstand- 
ing, the  forty-one  mutineers  were  set  at  hberty 
by  order  of  the  National  Assembly  and  were 
welcomed  with  enthusiasm  at  the  bar  of  the 
house. 

To  express  its  disgust  at  such  clemency  and 
to  preserve  its  subjects  from  the  contagion  of 
republican  ideas,  the  republic  of  Berne  recalled 
its  contingent  from  the  French  service.  The 
Assembly  decreed  the  disbanding  of  the  Cent- 
Suisses,  but  left  the  other  corps  standing, 
though  the  Guards  were  ordered  to  confine 
themselves  to  their  barracks  at  Courbevoie 
and  Rueil  and  to  surrender  their  artillery.  The 
aged  colonel,  M.  d'Affry,  kept  in  the  background, 
and  managed  to  keep  on  good  terms  with  the 
new  authorities.  His  officers,  whose  sympathies 
were,  of  course,  entirely  with  their  paymaster, 
the  King,  sent  to  Lucerne  for  instructions 
how  to  act.  Before  they  were  answered,  they 
were  summoned  to  defend  the  Tuileries  against 
the  Marseillais.  Commanded  by  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  de  Maillardoz  and  Captain  de  Durler, 
they  made  their  last  heroic  stand  in  defence  of 
their  employer's  home  on  loth  August  1792. 
It  was  the  apotheosis  of  the  mercenary  soldier. 

The  number  of  the  defenders  is  stated  by 
Durler  to  have  been  about  eight  hundred.  A 
return  made  by  order  of  the  cantons  accounts 


Switzerland 

for  only  519,  of  whom  160  were  killed.  All  the 
cantons  were  represented  except  Schaffhausen 
and  Appenzell.  Soleure  furnished  the  largest  pro- 
portion of  killed — 51  out  of  105.  From  Fribourg 
came  no  fewer  than  125  men,  in  addition  to  the 
lieutenant-colonel.  He  was  murdered  in  the 
Conciergerie,  together  with  nine  other  officers. 
The  Baron  de  Bachmann,  whom  the  revolu- 
tionaries put  to  death  on  the  scaffold,  was  from 
canton  Glarus. 

On  20th  August  the  remaining  Swiss  troops 

were   disbanded    by   the    French   Government. 

Many  of  the  men  took  service  with  Sardinia  and 

in  England,  where  they  formed  part  of  a  corps 

known  as   Roll's  regiment.     To  this  belonged 

the  brave  Durler,  who  died  fighting  under  the 

British  flag  in  Egypt.     Upon  the  restoration  of 

the  Bourbons,  Louis  XVIII.  showed  that  among 

other  things  he  had  not  forgotten  the  value  of 

foreign  mercenaries  to  the  King  of  France.     He 

hastily  reconstituted  both  the  Cent-Suisses  and 

the   Garde   Suisse,   raising  the   number  of  the 

former,  by  the  way,  to  317.     To  the  command 

of  the  Guard  he  appointed  the  Comte  d'Affry, 

son  of  the  old  colonel,  who  had  fought  under 

Napoleon.     WTien  the  Emperor  returned  from 

Elba  he  ordered  the  Swiss  to  parade  before  him. 

They  remained  in  their  barracks.     Their  colonel 

was  summoned  to  the  palace.     Upon  his  arrival, 

two  officers  ordered  him  to  give  up  his  sword. 

152 


The  Lion  of  Lucerne 

He  drew  it,  and  invited  any  man  who  was  bold 
enough  to  take  it.  No  one  dared  and,  armed, 
he  entered  the  presence  of  Napoleon.  "  Why," 
asked  the  great  man,  "  did  you  not  obey  my 
orders  ?  "  "  Because,"  replied  the  intrepid 
Swiss,  "  I  can  take  orders  only  from  the  King 
and  the  cantons."  "  Do  you  know  to  whom 
you  are  speaking  ?  "  thundered  the  Emperor. 
"  Yes,  to  General  Bonaparte."  "  You  are  speak- 
ing," said  the  conqueror  deliberately,  "  to  the 
Emperor  of  the  French,  and  in  that  capacity 
I  order  you  to  parade  your  regiment  upon 
the  Place  du  Carrousel."  "  I  regret,"  replied 
d'Affry,  "  that  I  can  take  orders  only  from  the 
King  to  whom  I  took  the  oath  of  allegiance." 
"  You  swore  allegiance  to  me  also  in  1810." 
"  True,  but  you  absolved  me  from  it  by  your 
abdication."  "  Good,"  said  Napoleon;  "  I  will 
take  steps  to  recall  it  to  your  memory."  He 
dismissed  the  bold  Switzer,  but  contented  him- 
self with  disbanding  his  regiment. 

Louis  XVni.  rewarded  this  fresh  instance  of 
fidelity  by  giving  the  Swiss  the  place  of  honour 
upon  his  re-entry  into  Paris.  By  a  convention 
concluded  with  the  cantons  on  ist  June  1816 
the  strength  of  the  Guard  was  fixed  at  two 
regiments  of  2298  officers  and  men  each,  and 
four  more  regiments  were  raised,  each  1956 
strong,  to  be  known  as  Swiss  infantry  of  the  line. 
The  Guards  wore  the  old  scarlet  and  blue  uniform, 

155 


Switzerland 

the  infantry  red  coats  with  yellow  buttons.  The 
colonel  of  the  Guards  received  a  salary  of 
15,000  francs  a  year — nearly  thrice  as  much  as 
his  comrade  of  the  French  Guards.  The  privates 
were  paid  seventy  centimes  a  day  in  the  Guards, 
and  fifty  centimes  in  the  line. 

During  this  last  period  of  their  service  with 
the  French  colours,  the  hardy  sons  of  Helvetia 
proved  themselves,  as  ever,  valiant  defenders  of 
tyranny.  They  shared  the  fatigues  and  the 
doubtful  honours  of  the  disgraceful  expedition 
into  Spain  to  crush  the  liberties  of  the  people 
and  to  restore  the  hateful  Ferdinand  VII,  to 
the  unlimited  exercise  of  arbitrary  power.  Some 
of  the  regiments  remained  on  the  south  side  of 
the  Pyrenees  till  1827  ;  it  would  have  been  well 
for  them  if  they  had  stayed  there  three  years 
longer.  On  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution  of 
July,  the  sight  of  the  hated  scarlet  uniform 
goaded  the  Parisians  to  madness.  At  every 
crisis  in  the  history  of  France,  these  hirelings 
from  the  mountains  were  found  ready  to  step 
between  the  monarch  and  his  injured  people. 
The  Swiss,  as  usual,  did  their  duty.  They  fired 
without  hesitation  on  the  mob,  and  were  vigor- 
ously attacked  in  return.  A  corps  was  besieged 
in  its  barracks,  which  was  set  fire  to  by  the 
insurgents.  At  the  Tuileries,  the  people  gained 
the  upper  floors,  and  fired  from  the  windows  on 
the  Swiss  in  the  court  below.     The  mercenaries 

154 


The  Lion  of  Lucerne 

remembered  the  fate  of  their  predecessors  in 
1792,  and  hastily  retreated.  With  Charles  X. 
the  Swiss  Guard  disappeared  from  France  for 
ever,  and  the  confederation  lost  the  best  market 
for  its  blood  and  sinew. 

Spain,  which  had  drawn  as  many  as  six 
regiments  at  a  time  from  the  Catholic  cantons, 
employed  no  more  Swiss  after  the  French  in- 
vasion. Reding,  who  did  such  good  service 
during  the  campaign,  was  a  Swiss  officer.  The 
Protestant  mercenaries  preferred  the  service  of 
the  states-general  of  Holland,  which  in  1748  had 
as  many  as  20,400  Swiss  in  their  pay.  As  late 
as  1829  there  were  four  Swiss  regiments  in  the 
Dutch  army.  The  Emperor  had  his  Hundred 
Swiss,  like  his  cousin  of  France,  but  generally 
preferred  to  hire  these  mercenaries  for  the  job 
— which  was  never  too  dirty  for  the  Helvetic 
conscience.  As  late  as  the  time  of  the  Crimean 
war,  the  English  Government  recruited  a  force 
in  Switzerland,  which  we  had  transported  at 
great  expense  as  far  as  Smyrna  when  hostilities 
came  to  an  end.  The  men  returned  to  their 
native  valleys  to  tire  their  simple  neighbours  to 
the  end  of  their  lives  with  stories  of  the  perils 
of  the  deep  and  the  wonders  of  the  Orient. 

Nowadays  to  most  of  us  the  words  Swiss 
Guards  recall  the  ornamental  warriors  of  the 
Vatican.  The  popes  were  the  first  to  take  the 
troops  of  the  cantons  into  their  pay,  and  they 

15s 


Switzerland 

have  retained  them  the  longest.  The  supreme 
pontiff's  Swiss  Guard  is,  I  fancy,  the  oldest  existing 
regiment.  It  was  founded  in  1471  by  Sixtus  IV., 
and  composed  of  7  officers  and  146  non-commis- 
sioned officers  and  men.  As  most  people  know, 
and  some  will  learn  with  surprise,  the  hideous 
uniform  of  these  devout  mercenaries  was  designed 
by  no  other  than  Raphael.  Unfortunately  it 
has  been  little  affected  by  the  vicissitudes  of  the 
corps  itself.  The  Swiss  Guards  were  disbanded 
in  1809,  when  Pius  VII.  was  carried  off  to  France, 
and  reorganised  in  18 14.  On  the  establishment 
of  the  Roman  republic  in  1848  they  were  again 
dismissed,  only  to  reappear  on  the  restoration  of 
the  ninth  Pius.  They  were  spared  upon  the 
annexation  of  the  city  to  the  Italian  kingdom, 
as  an  entirely  ceremonial  non-combatant  force. 
Their  countrymen  in  the  papal  and  Neapolitan 
services  have  left  a  different  reputation  behind 
them.  Foreseeing  an  uprising  in  his  dominions, 
that  stupid  and  tyrannical  pope,  Gregory  XVI., 
in  1834  contracted  with  the  Swiss  Government 
for  the  supply  of  two  regiments  of  foot  and  a 
troop  of  artillery,  totalling  4401  men.  These 
were  stationed  in  the  legations  of  Romagna,  as 
the  most  disaffected  districts.  Curiously  enough, 
they  first  saw  active  service  in  the  defence, 
instead  of  to  the  injury,  of  the  national  cause. 
When  Pius  IX.  pretended  to  join  the  Italian 
league  against  Austria,  the  Swiss  troops  under  a 

156 


The  Lion  of  Lucerne 

Grison,  General  de  Latour,  fought  well  at  Vicenza 
against  the  Imperialists,  and  were  saluted  by  the 
people  with  the  unaccustomed  cry,  "  Viva  i 
Svizzeri !  "  On  the  proclamation  of  the  repub- 
lic, notwithstanding,  the  two  infantry  regiments 
were  dissolved.  Some  of  the  men  returned  home 
and  a  few  re-enlisted  in  the  native  army.  Most, 
however,  passed  into  the  service  of  the  King  of 
the  Two  Sicilies. 

That  paternal  sovereign  and  his  predecessor 
had  maintained  four  regiments  of  Swiss  in- 
fantry, for  the  oppression  of  their  subjects,  since 
1827,  under  conventions  with  the  cantonal 
governments  of  Lucerne,  Uri,  Unterwalden, 
Appenzell  (Inner  Rhoden),  Fribourg,  Soleure, 
Valais,  Berne,  and  Grisons.  These  conventions, 
together  with  the  conditions  of  service  and  the 
Swiss  military  code,  may  be  read  in  extenso  in  a 
book  published  at  Geneva  by  Henri  Ganter,  an 
ex-mercenary.  The  discipline  was  severe,  even 
ferocious.  Death,  flogging,  and  running  the 
gauntlet  were  the  penalties  for  even  minor 
offences.  The  last-mentioned  method  of  punish- 
ment was  often  terrible  enough,  for  it  was  a 
means  of  gratifying  the  intense  animosity  which 
divided  the  German  and  Latin  members  of  the 
same  corps.  The  pay  of  a  private  was  only 
sixty-two  and  two-third  centimes  a  day.  Yet 
the  cantons  appear  to  have  had  no  difficulty 
in    recruiting    volunteers    for    foreign    service. 

157 


Switzerland 

Enlistment,  says  Ganter,  was  for  four  years, 
and  was  quite  voluntary.  Parents  had  even 
to  restrain  their  sons  from  engaging.  Once 
they  had  signed  on,  they  swore  fidelity  to 
their  employer,  and  were  sent  on  to  the 
chief  recruiting  station  of  the  canton,  whence 
they  were  despatched  to  the  general  depot  at 
Genoa.  Though  no  pressure  or  inducements  were 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  lads  to  enlist,  our  in- 
formant admits  that  desertions  before  and  after 
arrival  at  Naples  were  pretty  frequent,  and  that 
the  men  often  tried  to  make  themselves  useless 
as  soldiers  and  so  procure  even  a  dishonourable 

discharge.    We  are  told  of  a  certain  D of  the 

canton  Geneva,  who  might  by  his  intelligence 
have  easily  attained  promotion  but  preferred 
to  pass  most  of  his  service  in  the  guardroom. 
He  had  received  fifteen  thousand  strokes  with  the 
cane,  and  was  so  used  to  this  punishment  that  he 
would  let  his  comrades  amuse  themselves  by 
flogging  him  in  return  for  a  few  glasses  of  wine. 
The  men  seem  to  have  been  brutalised  in  this 
sordid  service  and  to  have  delighted  in  cruelty 
to  each  other  as  well  as  to  the  people.  The 
officers  jealously  insisted  on  their  right  to  inflict 
the  death  penalty  without  the  possibility  of 
pardon  by  the  King.  On  doom  being  pronounced 
the  judge  broke  a  black  wand  and  threw  it  at 
the  feet  of  the  condemned  man,  telling  him  that 
he  was  as  surely  dead  as  the  stick  was  broken. 

158 


The  Lion  of  Lucerne 

Loathed  by  the  NeapoHtans  as  the  very  body- 
guard of  tyranny,  the  Swiss  regiments  distin- 
guished themselves  in  1848  and  i860  by  their 
courage  and  ferocity  among  the  troops  of  Ferdi- 
nand 11.  They  are  accused  of  firing  on  the 
people  without  provocation  and  warning,  and 
of  massacring  women  and  children.  The  four 
colonels,  Sigrist,  Brunner,  de  Riedmatten,  and  de 
Muralt,  published  an  indignant  denial  of  these 
charges,  but  their  part  in  the  revolt  had  covered 
the  Swiss  name  with  odium,  and  aroused  the 
liveliest  indignation  in  Switzerland.  The  old 
order  of  things  had  passed  away  in  1847,  and  the 
confederation  now  refused  to  recognise  the 
conventions  signed  by  the  cantons  or  to  permit 
the  Swiss  arms  to  be  borne  on  the  standards  of 
the  Neapolitan  regiments.  The  Conservative 
party  in  the  cantons  affected  were,  however, 
sufficiently  strong  to  prevent  the  recall  of  the 
contingents,  and  even  managed  to  keep  up  their 
strength  to  the  number  agreed  upon  with  the 
other  contracting  party.  But  the  men  them- 
selves mutinied  on  seeing  their  national  ensigns 
removed  from  their  colours,  and  in  1859  the 
Neapolitan  Government  thought  fit  to  disband 
the  corps.  A  great  number  of  the  men,  how- 
ever, immediately  re-enlisted  in  the  newly 
formed  foreign  legion,  and  fought  obstinately 
against  Garibaldi  in  Sicily  and  on  the  Voltumo. 
Meanwhile,  a  new  brigade  of  Swiss  in  the  employ 

159 


Switzerland 

of  Pius  IX.  had  rendered  itself  odious  by  its 
brutality  towards  the  insurgent  inhabitants  of 
Perugia.  The  appearance  of  the  Sardinian  army 
presently  drove  the  pontifical  troops  into  the 
fortress  of  Ancona  and  the  Neapolitan  army 
into  Gaeta.  These  strongholds  of  despotism 
fell  successively  in  September  i860  and  Feb- 
ruary 1861.  The  Pope's  mercenaries  took  refuge 
in  the  city  and  territory  of  Rome  ;  the  Swiss  in 
the  garrison  of  Gaeta  were  sent  back  to  their 
own  country.  They  had  been  treated  harshly 
by  the  Sardinians.  Covered  with  vermin  and 
clothed  in  rags,  they  were  transported  by  rail 
from  Genoa  to  Arona.  At  every  station  they 
were  greeted  with  groans  and  hisses  by  the 
Italians,  with  cries  of  "  Ecco  i  Borboni !  Porchi 
di  Svizzera !  Mangia  macheroni !  Levate 
questa  porcheria !  "  And  so  the  last  of  the 
Swiss  mercenaries,  with  the  exception  of  those 
at  Rome,  returned  to  their  country,  which 
blushed  to  receive  them. 

Thus  closed  a  sorry  chapter  in  the  history  not 
of  the  Swiss  nation  but  of  the  old  rotten  aristo- 
cracy of  Switzerland,  who  sold  their  peasantry 
into  bondage  to  foreign  kings.  The  German 
princes  did  the  same.  The  old-fashioned  ruler 
believed  himself  to  be  the  owner  of  his  people, 
and  not  unreasonably  supposed  he  might  sell 
them  as  a  farmer  does  his  live  stock.  Those 
ideas  are  dead  in  Switzerland,  but  they  are  not 

160 


The  Lion  of  Lucerne 

dead  in  England.  There  are  plenty  of  self- 
styled  intellectuals  in  London  to-day  who  openly 
express  their  desire  for  an  absolute  monarchy. 
Most  middle-aged  English  ladies  of  good  family 
believe  that  the  working  class  was  only  created 
to  supply  them  with  domestic  servants.  South 
Kensington  would  vote  solid  to-morrow  for  the 
introduction  of  slavery.  The  aristocratic  party 
does  not  proclaim  these  doctrines  on  the  plat- 
form or  in  the  press,  but  it  makes  no  secret  of 
them  in  the  club  and  the  drawing-room.  So  I 
think  it  quite  right  and  proper  that  wealthy 
English  tourists  should  sigh  before  Thorwaldsen's 
Hon  over  the  fate  of  the  armed  slaves  of  a 
corrupt  monarchy.  For  the  Swiss  of  to-morrow 
will  not !  This  monument  should  be  set  up  in 
a  London  suburb  or  a  fashionable  watering-place, 
to  be  honoured  by  those  who  admire  courage 
blended  with  servility. 

I,  for  one,  respect  these  brave  soldiers,  worthy 
of  a  better  cause.  It  is  easy  to  be  hard  on  these 
poor  devils  of  mercenaries.  They  had  no  coun- 
try of  their  own — it  belonged  to  the  patricians 
of  their  cantons.  They  hoped  to  escape  tyranny 
at  home  by  embracing  servitude  abroad.  They 
were  simple  souls,  with  much  in  common  with 
the  cattle  of  their  upland  pastures.  The  Swiss 
used  to  play  in  French  humour  the  part  assigned 
to  the  Irishman  in  ours.  A  Swiss  captain  was 
ordered  to  bury  the  dead  after  an  engagement, 

L  l6l 


Switzerland 

so  one  story  goes.  He  set  to  work  with  right 
good  will,  and  it  was  presently  pointed  out  to 
him  that  he  was  burying  the  living  as  well  as  the 
dead.  "As  to  that,"  he  replied  impatiently, 
"  if  you  listened  to  these  bodies,  they  would  have 
you  believe  there  isn't  a  dead  man  among  them." 
Voltaire  is  responsible  for  the  yarn  about  the 
German  officer  who  begged  for  his  life  from  a 
Swiss  soldier.  "  Alas  !  sir,"  answered  the  oblig- 
ing mercenary,  "  I  will  willingly  grant  you  any 
other  favour,  but  your  life — no  !  "  I  like,  too, 
that  story  of  the  Swiss  Guard  who  had  orders  to 
let  no  one  enter  the  Tuileries  from  the  street. 
"  You  can't  enter,"  he  said  to  a  citizen  who  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  gate.  "  I  don't  want  to 
enter,"  explained  the  adroit  townsman,  "  I  wish 
to  leave  this  street."  "  Ah,  that's  another 
matter,"  returned  the  sentinel,  who  drew  back 
to  let  him  pass. 

Men  to  whom  such  niaiseries  could  be 
attributed  were  not  very  capable  of  weighing 
the  rights  and  wrongs  of  any  quarrel.  Certainly 
none  of  them  would  have  fought  for  the  op- 
pressors of  his  own  land,  as  the  Irish  and  Indians 
have  not  hesitated  to  do.  I  don't  suppose  any 
one  of  them  would  have  stooped  to  shake  hands 
with  a  divorce  court  lawyer.  And,  on  the  whole, 
I  think  these  Swiss  mercenary  soldiers  are  as 
deserving  of  a  monument  as  any  of  those 
who  fight  to  extend  the  dominion  of  their  own 

162 


The  Lion  of  Lucerne 

country  without  troubling  to  ask  themselves 
whether  their  country's  influence  is  for  the  good 
of  mankind  or  whether  it  means  the  propaga- 
tion of  vicious  laws  and  customs,  the  heritage 
of  mediaeval  times.  Loyalty  to  one's  flag  some- 
times means  treason-felony  to  mankind. 


163 


LITTLE  JOURNEYS  FROM  LUCERNE 

Despite  its  kursaal  and  its  horse  races,  its 
dances  at  the  National  and  its  danses  macabres, 
no  one  Hngers  very  long  in  Lucerne.  The  call 
of  the  mountains  is  too  urgent  and  the  lights  of 
the  big  hotels  on  their  summits  too  friendly  to 
be  resisted.  Everyone  you  meet  at  Lucerne  has 
come  down  from  a  mountain  or  is  about  to  go  up 
one.  Not  that  this  is  a  centre  for  real  climbers, 
for  the  true  Alpinists.  There  are  no  peaks  round 
here  which  the  professional  mountaineer  would 
think  it  worth  his  while  to  bark  his  shins  upon. 
For  him  you  must  look  rather  at  Grindelwald 
and  Zermatt. 

Time  was  when  the  ascent  of  the  Rigi  was 
regarded  as  a  remarkable  feat  of  endurance  and 
hardihood,  and  the  man  who  had  seen  the 
sunrise  from  the  humble  inn  on  the  summit 
would  talk  about  the  experience  all  the  rest  of 
his  life.  That  inn  was  built  by  a  man  called 
Blirgi  in  1816,  and  it  had  for  a  long  time  to  be 
kept  going  by  the  subscriptions  of  potentates  like 
the  Duke  of  Saxe-Coburg-Gotha  and  the  Crown 
Prince  of  Prussia.  After  a  while  it  became 
almost  as  popular  as  a  tourist  resort  as  it  had 
been  as  a  resort  for  pilgrims.     For  as  far  back 

164 


'^Jrli\  ' 


IN 


'\^]mv 


c 

E 

© 

0 


0) 

I- 


o 


Little  Journeys  from  Lucerne 

as  i6go  at  the  spot  we  call  the  Klosterli  there 
existed  a  chapel  dedicated  to  Our  Lady  of  the 
Snows,  to  which  a  pilgrimage  was  made  on  the 
6th  of  September  every  year.  At  one  time  as 
many  as  nineteen  thousand  persons  gained  the 
indulgence  attached  to  this  religious  exercise  in 
one  year.  The  chapel  still  supplies  the  spiritual 
needs  of  the  population  of  the  mountain. 

The  railway  up  from  Vitznau  is  the  oldest  of 
mountain  railways,  and  was  inaugurated  with 
a  great  flourish  of  trumpets  in  1871.  In  my 
childhood,  which  was  several  years  later,  I  can 
remember  its  being  spoken  of  still  as  an  eighth 
wonder  of  the  world.  He  must  be  a  weakling 
that  would  use  it.  The  path  would  present 
no  difficulties  to  a  centenarian  on  crutches — at 
least  as  far  as  the  Rigi  Staff  el.  The  way  lies 
mostly  through  woods,  where  your  footstep 
startles  hordes  of  squirrels.  These  little  fellows, 
with  their  fat  cousins,  the  marmots,  are  among 
the  greatest  joys  of  travel  on  foot  in  Switzerland. 
The  good  wholesome  wild  things  have  not, 
happily,  been  banished,  as  from  lifeless  Italy. 
Birds  fly  overhead  and  in  and  out  the  bushes. 
The  Swiss  do  not  look  on  everything  that  lives 
as  food,  and  though  I  suppose  bird-butchery  is 
looked  on  here,  as  in  less  civilised  countries,  as 
"  sport,"  the  Switzer  generally  prefers  to  aim 
at  a  target,  in  preparation  not  for  the  kitchen 

but  the  battlefield.     Between  the  woods  you 

165 


Switzerland 

traverse  vivid  emerald  pastures  where  the  cows 
move  slowly  to  the  eternal  jingle  of  their  leader's 
bell.  I  ran  down  the  Rigi  once  in  a  little  less 
than  an  hour,  and  acquired  such  momentum 
that  I  could  not  avert  a  violent  collision  with  one 
of  these  interesting  creatures  who  chanced  to 
cross  my  path  broadside  on.  Luckily  she  was 
fat,  and  neither  of  us  was  much  the  worse  for 
the  encounter.  This,  I  recollect,  occurred  some 
distance  below  that  wonderfully  grand  gate  of 
rock  called,  I  think,  the  Hochstein,  which 
stands  out  like  a  miniature  Thermopylae  above 
Weggis.  All  the  way,  up  or  down,  you  catch 
glimpses  between  the  trees  and  rocks  of  sublime 
vistas  of  lake  and  mountain,  till  you  emerge  on 
the  bare  summit  up  in  the  clear  sky.  It  is  not 
always  clear,  as  everybody  knows,  and  I  can 
hardly  think  of  the  mountain  without  reaching 
for  my  umbrella ;  you  may  spend  a  week  up 
here  and  see  nothing  but  the  clouds  ;  or  you  may 
be  rewarded  with  that  view  which  even  the 
Alpinists  of  to-day  speak  of  with  respect. 

Pilatus,  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  is  every 
way  much  more  of  a  mountain  than  the  Rigi. 
The  highest  of  its  seven  peaks — the  Tomlishorn — 
is  a  thousand  feet  taller  than  the  summit  of  the 
mountain  opposite.  The  Rigi  is  broad-backed 
and  rounded  at  the  top,  the  Pilatus  shaggy  and 
peaked  and  serrated  as  a  true  mountain  should 
be.    On  the  whole,  too,  the  view  from  the  summit 

i66 


Little  Journeys  from  Lucerne 

is  better  ;  but  as  you  can  go  up  both  by  railway, 
and  most  people  do  so,  there  is  no  object  perhaps 
in  vaunting  one  at  the  expense  of  the  other. 

The  legend  which  explains  the  name  of  our 
mountain  is  unusual  and  thrilling.  It  forms 
an  unauthorised  sequel  to  the  New  Testament. 
Pontius  Pilate,  it  seems,  was  so  unfortunate  as 
to  incur  the  disfavour  of  the  Emperor,  and,  to 
escape  a  worse  fate,  killed  himself  in  prison. 
His  body  was  thrown  into  the  Tiber.  The  river 
rose  and  threatened  to  burst  its  banks.  The 
authorities,  strangely  enough  connecting  this 
phenomenon  with  the  disposal  of  the  governor's 
corpse,  recovered  it  and  sent  it  all  the  way  to 
Vienne  in  Gaul,  to  be  thrown  into  the  Rhone. 
However,  this  stream  proved  no  more  tolerant 
than  the  other  of  its  odious  burden,  and  the  Lake 
of  Geneva  was  next  chosen  as  the  place  of  burial. 
The  same  floods  and  disturbances  resulted,  and 
for  the  third  time  the  body  was  brought  to  the 
surface.  It  did  not  occur  to  the  people  of  those 
days  to  try  some  other  means  of  disposing  of  it, 
so  they  sought  out  a  lonely  little  pool  on  the 
summit  of  the  mountain  we  know  as  Pilatus 
and  cast  it  in.  According  to  another  version, 
the  ex-governor  of  Judaea  had  selected  this  spot 
while  living  as  a  place  of  retreat,  and  was  there 
found  by  the  Wandering  Jew  and  pitched  into 
the  pool.  But  all  authorities  are  agreed  that 
whether  Pilate  reached  the  mountain  dead  or 

167 


Switzerland 

alive,  he  began  upon  his  arrival  to  make  things 
most  unpleasant  for  the  inhabitants  of  the  coun- 
try round  about.  Storms  raged,  rain  destroyed 
the  crops,  rivers  burst  their  banks,  the  Lake 
of  Lucerne  inundated  the  surrounding  district, 
avalanches  swept  away  villages,  and  all  the  while 
the  most  hideous  din  resounded  among  the  peaks 
of  the  mountains.  At  last  a  Spanish  scholar 
volunteered  to  beard  the  pagan  in  his  lair  and 
bring  him  to  a  more  Christian  frame  of  mind. 
His  path  up  the  mountain  was  beset  with 
difficulties  which  might  have  daunted  the 
hardiest  members  of  the  Alpine  Club.  Torrents 
as  wide  as  rivers,  chasms  as  deep  as  the  bottom- 
less pit,  forbade  his  passage.  The  scholar  made 
the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  instantly  these  obstacles 
were  bridged  by  magnificent  viaducts,  which  dis- 
appeared as  soon  as  he  had  passed.  Assured  in 
this  manner  of  the  Divine  protection,  he  pressed 
on  to  the  verge  of  the  pool.  A  terrific  vision  rose 
up  before  him — Pilate  grown  since  his  death  to 
the  height  of  the  tallest  tower  in  Lucerne,  dressed 
like  a  Roman  warrior,  and  brandishing  the 
trunk  of  a  pine-tree.  Undismayed,  the  Christian 
champion  gave  battle.  The  combat  lasted  a 
whole  day  and  night.  The  mountain  rocked  on 
its  foundations.  Trees  and  rocks  were  hurled 
down  into  the  lake.  The  burghers  of  Lucerne 
trembled  and  made  bets  as  to  the  issue  of  the 
encounter.     At  the  end   of  thirty-six  hours  a 

i68 


Little  Journeys  from  Lucerne 

tremendous  thud,  followed  by  a  sound  of  iieavy 

breathing,  seemed  to  announce  the  final  victory 

of  one  or  other  of  the  combatants.     The  Spaniard 

had  floored  Pilate.     As  it  was  not  easy  to  slay  a 

man  who  was  already  dead,  the  victor  admitted 

the    vanquished    to    terms.     The    troublesome 

Roman  swore  on  a  fragment  of  the  true  cross, 

which  the  scholar  had  thoughtfully  brought  with 

him,  to  remain  quiet  in  his  pool  on  all  days  of  the 

week,  except  Friday,  when  he  was  to  be  allowed 

to  roam  over  the  mountains.     The  scholar  then 

descended  to  the  city  and  notified  the  terms  of 

the  capitulation  to  the  magistrates.     A  decree 

was  issued  forbidding  anyone  to  climb  the  peak 

on  Friday.     From  time  to  time  hardy  infidels 

did  so,  with  dire  results.    Near  the  pool  they  met 

the  awful  form  of  Pilate  clad  in  the  red  robes  of  a 

judge.     Only  one  or  two  escaped  alive  to  tell  the 

tale,  and  these  were  blinded  or  maimed  for  life. 

In  the  year  15 18  four  sages  got  leave  from  the 

avoyer  to  test  the  truth  of  the  legend.     They 

went  up  into  the  mountain  on  the  forbidden  day, 

and  returned  very  much  scared,  to  confirm  the 

tradition.     Thirty-seven   years   later,    however, 

Conrad  Gessner,  the  greatest  naturalist  of  his 

day,  made  the  ascent  on  a  Friday,  and  was  able 

to  announce  that  the  pagan  had  disappeared. 

The  prohibition   was   then   removed.     Till   the 

end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  however,  the  vicar 

of  Lucerne  once  a  year  with  much  solemnity 

169 


Switzerland 

threw  stones  into  the  pool  and  exorcised  the 
accursed  spirit.  These  measures  seem  to  have 
been  at  last  effectual,  for  the  unhappy  pro- 
consul has  never  reappeared  and  his  watery 
habitation  has  nearly  dried  up.  The  snorting 
and  groaning  of  the  mountain  train  has  been  at 
times  mistaken  by  the  superstitious  for  the 
expressions  of  his  wrath  at  the  invasion  of  his 
domain. 

Nowadays  almost  every  mountain  within 
sight  of  Lucerne  has  its  Grand  Hotel  and  its 
funicular  railway.  At  night  the  lights  of  these 
reputed  eyesores  sparkle  like  new  constella- 
tions in  the  heavens — here  blazes  a  coronet  of 
fire,  there  a  ruddy  serpent  marks  the  track  of 
the  mountain  train.  The  effect  is  startling  but 
rather  beautiful.  It  is  an  affectation  to  esteem 
as  ugliness  all  the  lamps  men  light  in  the  higher 
air.  I  can  see  much  beauty  in  the  beacons  of 
all  colours  that  welcome  the  traveller  to  New 
York  by  night,  and  there  is  surely  something 
sublime  in  the  miles-long  glare  of  the  light- 
house. The  outcry  against  the  disfigurement 
of  nature  in  Switzerland  does  not  appear  to 
me  to  be  altogether  justified.  The  railways  are 
less  objectionable  than  the  hotels,  and  bring  the 
glories  of  the  mountain  within  reach  of  the  aged 
and  the  feeble.  Nor  is  a  railway  track  anywhere 
necessarily  an  unsightly  feature  in  a  landscape 
— not   more  so  at  any  rate  than   a  highroad. 

170 


Little  Journeys  from  Lucerne 

The  more  recent  hotels,  moreover,  are  not 
inartistically  built,  and  the  builders  have  now 
generally  sense  enough  not  to  place  them  on  the 
skyline.  Some  years  ago  I  met  a  Switzer  who 
told  me  that  he  belonged  to  the  society  for  the 
preservation  of  the  natural  beauty  of  his  country. 
On  the  mountain  hotels  he  was  especially  severe. 
"  I  own  a  hotel  at  Interlaken,"  he  explained. 
"  I  find  nowadays  that  tourists  spend  only  a 
night  in  the  towns  and  hurry  up  next  day  to 
stay  on  the  top  of  some  mountain.  Formerly 
they  would  have  stayed  with  me,  and  just  made 
excursions  to  the  mountains  between  breakfast 
and  dinner.  These  high-level  hotels  and  railways 
are  spoiling  the  appearance  of  the  country." 
Doubtless  the  majority  of  the  society  are  in- 
spired by  very  different  motives  from  this  par- 
ticular member,  though  Edouard  Rod  addresses 
himself  to  the  commercial  aspect  of  the  question 
b}^  reminding  the  Swiss  that  by  destroying  the 
picturesqueness  of  the  mountains  they  will 
drive  away  the  foreigners  it  is  their  object  to 
attract. 

Yet  the  hotels  continue  to  rise  on  the  highest 
summits,  and  appear  to  pay  well.  Within  sight 
of  Lucerne  is  the  Biirgenstock,  farther  off  the 
Stanserhorn,  with  a  view  much  better  than  the 
Rigi's.  The  two  of  them  during  the  greater  part 
of  the  winter  shut  out  the  sunlight  from  Stans, 
the  little  capital  of  Nidwalden,  which  lies  between 

171 


Switzerland 

them.  In  the  summer  the  place  makes  a  good 
objective  for  an  afternoon's  trip  from  Lucerne. 
The  steamer  takes  you  to  Stansstad,  the  tiny 
port  of  the  canton,  and  you  land  close  to  a  watch- 
tower  five  hundred  years  old.  When  most  of 
the  men  of  Unterwalden  had  gone  across  the 
lake  to  help  their  fellow-confederates  at  Mor- 
garten,  the  town  of  Lucerne  sent  an  expedition 
to  attack  the  canton  here  and  at  Buochs.  At 
the  last-named  place,  the  women,  in  the  absence 
of  the  men,  beat  off  the  invaders,  and  ever  after 
enjoyed  the  privilege  of  approaching  the  Com- 
munion rail  before  the  other  sex.  At  Stansstad 
a  naval  engagement  took  place.  The  market 
boat  of  Uri  came  to  the  assistance  of  the  Unter- 
waldeners,  and  a  millstone  launched  from  the 
platform  of  the  watch-tower  crushed  the  Lucerne 
flagship  and  sunk  her.  An  attack  made  from 
the  side  of  the  Brunig  was  likewise  repulsed. 

It  is  a  short  walk  from  Stansstad  to  Stans. 
The  country  is  well  cultivated  and  the  town 
itself  stands  in  a  very  forest  of  fruit-trees.  The 
first  object  that  greets  your  eyes  is  the  statue 
of  Arnold  von  Winkelried  "  of  battle  martyrs 
chief,"  gathering  the  spears  into  his  bosom. 
Here  is  a  much  finer  hero  than  Tell,  and  one 
happily  less  problematical.  His  devotion  is 
said  to  have  decided  the  fortune  of  battle  at 
Sempach  in  favour  of  the  Swiss.  "  To  this 
victory,"    says   an   anonymous   chronicler,    "  a 

172 


Little  Journeys  from  Lucerne 

trusty  man  among  the  confederates  helped  us. 
When  he  saw  that  things  were  going  so  ill  and 
that  the  [Austrian]  lords  always  thrust  down 
with  their  lances  and  spears  the  foremost  before 
they  could  be  touched  by  the  halberds,  then 
did  that  honest  man  and  true  rush  forward  and 
seize  as  many  spears  as  he  could  and  press  them 
down  so  that  the  confederates  smote  off  all  the 
spears  with  their  halberds,  and  so  reached  the 
enemy." 

This  seems  a  more  difficult  and  improbable 
performance  than  Tell's,  and,  however  much 
Winkelried  may  have  contributed  to  the  victory, 
we  may  be  certain  it  was  not  exactly  in  this  way. 
Historians,  of  course,  have  denied  that  any  such 
person  existed,  but  it  has  been  conclusively 
proved  that  a  man  named  Eric  Winkelried  was 
living  at  Stans  nineteen  years  before  the  battle 
of  Sempach,  and  the  same  name  occurs  in  a  deed 
three  years  later,  with  the  particle  von,  which  may 
have  been  assumed  in  consequence  of  the  bearer's 
knightly  achievement.  That  contemporary  his- 
torians are  silent  as  to  his  act  of  valour  does 
not  strike  me  as  conclusive  evidence  against  it. 
We  might  as  well  test  the  accuracy  of  modern 
history  by  the  reports  of  journalists.  And  if  it 
is  true  that  another  Winkelried  performed  the 
same  feat  in  1522  at  La  Bicocca — well,  quite 
probably  he  did  it  in  emulation  of  his  namesake 
and  ancestor. 

173 


Switzerland 

With  this  conclusion  every  native  of  Stans 
would  agree ;  and  he  will  show  you  his  house 
close  at  hand — a  farmstead,  with  a  low,  arched 
doorway,  which  may  in  part  be  as  old  as  the 
legend.  In  the  Rathhaus  you  may  see  the  hero's 
coat-of-mail,  c|J)out  which  there  may  be  reason- 
able doubt.  You  may  also  see  the  portraits  of 
all  the  landammans  of  Nidwalden  since  the 
year  1521.  Nidwalden  is  the  eastern  division 
of  Unterwalden,  the  western  portion  being 
known  as  Obwalden.  Everyone  does  not  seem 
to  be  aware  of  this  division,  as  only  lately  an 
unfortunate  tourist  who  had  procured  a  gun 
licence  for  one  of  the  half-cantons  was  surprised 
to  find  himself  arrested  when  he  attempted  to 
blaze  away  in  the  other.  Appenzell  and  Basle 
are  also  divided  into  two.  Unterwalden  was 
one  of  the  three  primitive  cantons,  and  was  the 
scene  of  the  misdeeds  of  the  wicked  Landenberg. 
It  is  still  one  of  the  most  primitive  parts  of 
Switzerland,  and,  as  might  be  expected,  the  most 
strict  in  its  observance  of  Sunday.  Scotch  and 
New  England  city  fathers  might  learn  a  few 
tips  in  the  matter  of  Sabbatarian  legislation 
from  papistical  Unterwalden.  The  clergy  who 
enjoy  such  influence  in  the  canton  have  certainly 
not  used  it  to  feather  their  own  nests,  for  they 
are  the  worst  paid  in  all  Switzerland.  Possibly 
they  take  their  revenge  on  their  parishioners  by 
making  them  so  uncomfortable  on  Sunday. 

174 


Little  Journeys  from   Lucerne 

The  landsgemeinde  of  Nidwalden  is  the  most 
primitive  of  all  the  cantonal  assemblies  of 
Switzeriand.  It  is  held  at  Wyl,  about  twenty 
minutes'  walk  to  the  eastward  of  Stans,  in  a 
square  walled-in  enclosure.  Overhead  tall  lime- 
trees  interlace  their  branches  and  protect  the 
sovereign  people  from  the  sun's  rays.  In  the 
middle  is  a  stone  terrace  for  the  landamman, 
round  it  are  ranged  wooden  benches.  The 
'  women  and  girls,  wearing  for  once  in  a  way  the 
national  costume,  sit  on  the  wall,  and  admire 
their  natural  lords  making  laws  for  their  guid- 
ance. Never  from  that  wall  has  come  that  cry 
which  blanches  the  faces  of  our  stoutest  states- 
men— "  Votes  for  Women  !  " 

The  proceedings  are  opened  by  the  bedels  in 
historic  costume,  one  of  whom  blows  a  stentorian 
blast  on  his  horn,  while  the  other  follows  the 
landamman  to  his  dais,  bearing  the  sword  of 
state.  The  people  stroll  in  and  take  their  seats 
in  numbers  varying  with  the  weather  and  the 
interest  of  the  agenda.  They  come  in  and  out, 
and  appear  little  sensible  of  their  responsibility. 
When  a  sufficient  number  are  assembled,  the 
landamman,  using  a  time-honoured  formula, 
asks  the  people  if  they  are  ready  to  meet  in 
landsgemeinde.  After  a  moment's  silence  the 
bedel  (I  do  not  know  his  precise  title)  replies  in 
the  name  of  the  people,  "  Honoured  landamman, 
we  wish  to  meet  in  landsgemeinde  according  to 

175 


Switzerland 


I 


ancient  custom."  "  Then,"  says  the  landam- 
man,  "  let  us  begin  by  asking  the  blessing  of 
Almighty  God."  The  bedel  takes  his  cigar  out 
of  his  mouth,  and  inclines  his  head  reverently, 
and  everyone  uncovers.  Then  the  business 
begins.  It  is  not  often  very  momentous  and 
is  discussed  with  high  good-humour.  A  bridge 
wants  repairing  here,  there  is  trouble  between 
two  communes  there  over  a  piece  of  arable  land. 
In  Nidwalden  the  council  or  nachgemeinde  has 
alone  the  right  to  promulgate  new  laws,  which 
must  however  be  approved  by  this  assembly. 
Every  native  male  above  the  age  of  eighteen  has 
the  right  to  vote.  There  is  no  scrutiny.  Every- 
one knows  his  neighbour,  and  the  voting  is  by  a 
show  of  hands.  Strangers  may  seat  themselves 
among  the  electors,  if  they  like,  so  long  as  they 
do  not  abuse  this  hospitality  by  attempting  to 
vote.  When  an  official  is  elected  he  is  generally 
found  to  have  his  speech  of  thanks  written  out 
and  ready  in  his  pocket,  and  he  has  no  hesitation 
in  reading  it  aloud.  When  these  simple  pro- 
ceedings are  terminated,  everyone  flocks  to  the 
inns  and  bierhallen  of  Stans  or  Stansstad.  The 
rest  of  the  day  is  a  holiday.  Friends  from 
different  parts  of  the  canton  meet  and  ex- 
change news.  There  are  wrestling  matches, 
games,  and  the  inevitable  rifle  matches. 

In  the  year  148 1  Stans  was  the  scene  of  a  less 

harmonious  assembly.     The  confederates  held  a 

176 


)    a*.  »    •     3    J 
I    0  •  •     •       •  > 


*     >        1  > 

,  >      3       ■)    -  > 


£ 

E 

3 
O 

E 

o 

o 


Little  Journeys   from  Lucerne 

Diet  there  to  discuss  such  weighty  matters  as 
the  admission  of  Fribourg  and  Soleure  to  their 
ranks  and  to  adjust  the  ever-recurring  disputes 
between  the  towns  and  the  country.  From 
high  words  the  delegates  very  nearly  came  to 
blows  ^  and  even  threatened  to  separate  without 
coming  to  any  agreement.  This  would  have 
meant  the  break-up  of  Switzerland.  At  this 
juncture  the  parish  priest  of  Stans  hastily  sent 
word  to  Sachseln  to  the  good  hermit,  Nicholas  von 
der  Fliie,  to  implore  his  intervention  and  advice. 
The  representatives  of  the  cantons  were  per- 
suaded by  this  devout  personage  to  resume  their 
sittings  and  to  deal  with  one  another  in  a  more 
conciliatory  spirit.  After  protracted  delibera- 
tion, they  drew  up  the  Convention  of  Stans, 
which  recognised  Fribourg  and  Soleure  as  mem- 
bers of  the  league,  but  dealt  a  deadly  blow  at 
liberty  by  forbidding  all  popular  meetings  and 
binding  the  confederated  governments  to  support 
each  other,  whether  right  or  wrong,  against  all 
rebellion  on  the  part  of  their  subjects. 

For  the  provisions  of  the  Covenant  of  Stans  it 
would  not  be  fair  to  blame  the  saintly  mediator. 
Nicholas  von  der  Fliie,  or  Bruder  Klaus,  as  he 
is  affectionately  termed,  is,  I  think,  the  only 
Switzer  whose  name  appears  in  the  Catholic 
calendar.  This  is  at  first  sight  startling,  when 
we  consider  the  attachment  of  the  forest  cantons 
to   their  ancient   faith   and  to  those   negative 

M  177 


Switzerland 

virtues  for  which  Rome  reserves  her  richest 
rewards.  Ireland,  "  the  island  of  saints/'  has 
likewise  been  granted  very  little  official  recog- 
nition of  her  saintliness.  The  explanation  is 
simple.  Ireland  and  Catholic  Switzerland  are 
poor  and  the  honours  of  sainthood  more  costly 
than  those  of  the  peerage.  The  descendants  of 
St  Charles  Borromeo  ruined  themselves  in  their 
efforts  to  procure  him  his  well-earned  nimbus, 
and  the  expenses  of  the  canonisation  of  the 
Blessed  Peter  Fourier  amounted  recently  to 
£9000.  Unterwalden's  local  saint  has  still 
to  be  content  with  the  rays  of  the  merely 
"  blessed  "  in  lieu  of  the  neat  aureole  of  the 
fully  fledged  saint.  Yet  he  was  born  of  poor 
but  honest  parents  as  far  back  as  141 7,  at 
a  farm  near  Sarnen,  called  from  its  position 
near  a  precipice,  Fliihli  or  der  Fliie.  Nicholas 
was  at  no  time  in  doubt  as  to  the  calling  he 
should  pursue.  As  he  afterwards  assured  his 
friend,  the  parson  of  Stans,  some  time  before  he 
was  horn  he  was  conscious  of  a  star  shining  in  the 
heavens,  which  he  understood  to  be  symbolical 
of  his  own  future  glory.  His  youth  was  passed 
in  tending  his  father's  cattle,  an  occupation 
which  allowed  him  abundant  leisure  for  medita- 
tion and  prayer.  His  priestly  biographers  lay 
much  stress  as  usual  on  his  superiority  to  tempta- 
tions, which  I  imagine  cannot  have  been  very 
numerous  or  powerful  in  a  lonely  pasture  on  the 

178 


Little  Journeys  from  Lucerne 

Alps  of  Unterwalden  at  the  beginning  of  the 
fifteenth  century.  However,  he  saw  something 
more  of  the  world  when  he  was  called  away  to 
serve  his  country,  sword  in  hand.  He  fought 
well  at  Zurich  in  1443  and  at  Ragatz  in  1446, 
and  distinguished  himself  by  preventing  the 
massacre  of  a  number  of  Austrian  prisoners  at 
Dissenhofen  in  Thurgau.  On  his  return  home, 
he  married  a  pious  damsel  named  Dorothea 
Wisling,  not  out  of  love  for  her,  of  course,  but 
in  obedience  to  the  will  of  his  parents.  They 
had  five  sons  and  five  daughters,  who  all  imitated 
the  virtues  of  their  parents.  The  cares  of  a 
large  family  and  even  the  more  doubtful  re- 
sponsibilities of  a  magistrate  did  not  distract 
Nicholas  from  his  interest  in  his  post-mortem 
existence.  He  saw  visions  and  declared  that  he 
was  incessantly  pursued  and  tormented  by  the 
Evil  One.  He  was  found  lying  bruised  and 
bleeding  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs.  In  1467  he 
forsook  his  home  and  wife  (although,  as  his 
contemporaries  hasten  to  inform  us,  she  was  still 
a  most  attractive  woman)  and  set  off  to  join  some 
hermits  in  Alsace.  On  the  way,  an  inner  voice 
told  him  to  seek  a  refuge  in  his  own  country.  He 
retraced  his  steps  and,  unknown  to  anyone,  lived 
for  a  long  time  under  a  pine-tree.  He  then  made 
himself  a  hut  of  brushwood  at  the  Ranft,  a  little 
way    beyond    Sachseln,    where    the    cantonal 

authorities  presently  built  him  a  cell.     This  is 

179 


Switzerland 

now  a  place  of  pilgrimage,  and  it  was  thence  that 
the  anchorite  went  or  sent  word  to  the  assembly 
at  Stans.  Here  he  lived  in  great  contentment 
and  greatly  venerated  by  the  whole  countryside 
for  nineteen  years,  the  tedium  of  his  existence 
varied  by  annual  pilgrimages  to  Einsiedeln, 
Engelberg,  and  Lucerne,  and  by  spirited  set-to 
fights  with  the  devil.  He  was  supposed  to  take 
no  food  except  the  consecrated  host.  Ques- 
tioned on  this  point  by  an  ecclesiastic,  he  re- 
plied :  "I  never  said  so  and  I  do  not  say  so 
now."  Like  most  saints  he  seems  to  have  been 
somewhat  of  a  clairvoyant,  but  he  never  gave 
anyone  advice  as  to  their  conduct  which  strikes 
us  as  particularly  wise  or  illuminating.  Epilepsy 
is  the  most  probable  explanation  of  his  alleged 
combats  with  an  invisible  foe  and  of  his  ecstatic 
poses.  This  theory  is  not  of  course  likely  to  be 
adopted  by  the  devout,  least  of  all  by  the  pious 
people  of  the  canton,  who  flock  every  year  to  his 
shrine  at  Sachseln.  There  his  bones  are  pre- 
served in  a  glass  case  above  the  high  altar.  A 
jewelled  cross  has  been  placed  inside  his  ribs, 
and  from  them  are  hung  several  ribbons  of  orders 
won  by  Uuterwaldeners  in  foreign  service.  The 
wooden  figure  in  the  transept  is  clad  in  his  real 
robes.  Round  the  walls  are  tablets  and  pictures 
recording  the  miracles  performed  at  his  inter- 
cession. 

The  horrible  bone-house  or  charnel-house  is  an 

I  So 


Little  Journeys  from  Lucerne 

institution  in  many  Swiss  towns.  That  of 
Stans  was  dedicated,  I  read,  in  1482,  and  now 
contains  a  neat  pyramid  of  human  skulls,  each 
labelled  with  the  former  owner's  name.  A 
good  many  of  these  ghastly  fragments  of 
humanity  belonged,  I  imagine,  to  the  victims  of 
the  massacre  of  1798,  who  are  commemorated 
by  a  tablet  in  the  outer  wall.  France  had  trans- 
formed the  old  league  of  cantons  into  the 
Helvetic  confederation,  and  imposed  on  the 
Swiss  a  constitution  which  swept  away  all 
inequalities  between  nobles  and  peasants  and 
states  and  subject  territories.  These  reforms 
were  spoilt  by  the  harsh  and  overbearing  manner 
in  which  they  were  carried  out ;  and  to  the  old 
Catholic  cantons  they  were  inherently  repug- 
nant. Schwyz  and  Uri,  after  a  gallant  resistance, 
accepted  the  new  order  of  things ;  so  did 
Obwalden,  though  under  protest.  But  in  Nid- 
walden  the  people  were  incited  by  the  clergy 
to  resist  the  new  constitution  to  the  death  and 
to  put  from  them  the  blood-stained  liberties  of 
renascent  France. 

The  whole  population  flew  to  arms.  In  Sep- 
tember, the  French,  commanded  by  General 
Schauenbourg,  attacked  the  half-canton  from 
the  lake  and  the  Brunig.  Their  boats  were 
beaten  off  at  Kehrsiten,  at  the  foot  of  the 
Burgenstock,  but  after  repeated  failures  a  land- 
ing  was    effected    at    Hiittenort.     Thence   the 

181 


Switzerland 

invaders  intrepidly  fought  their  way  over  the 
mountain.  In  the  meantime  their  comrades, 
after  desperate  fighting,  had  forced  the  passage 
of  the  Drachenried,  and  the  two  divisions,  about 
10,000  strong,  met  in  the  meadows  round  Stans. 
The  people,  about  2000  in  number,  rushed  on 
them  with  what  arms  they  could  seize.  Women 
and  children  fought  as  well  as  the  men,  and 
the  French  could  not  have  spared  them  if  they 
would.  A  priest  was  slain  at  the  altar;  the 
blind  octogenarian  artist,  Von  Wyrich,  was  killed. 
The  French  lost  2000  men ;  the  Unterwaldeners, 
312  men  and  102  women.  Every  house  in  the 
open  country  was  burnt  down,  and  Stans  itself 
escaped  very  narrowly. 

The  French,  their  fury  exhausted,  were  the 
first  to  succour  their  brave  but  misguided 
opponents.  Schauenbourg  distributed  food 
among  the  survivors  of  the  struggle,  and  es- 
tablished a  school  for  the  orphan  children  of 
those  who  had  fallen.  This  was  a  noteworthy 
event  in  educational  history,  for  the  teachers 
selected  were  no  other  than  Philip  Stalder  of 
Escholzmatt  and  Heinrich  Pestalozzi  of  Berne. 
But  as  the  Nidwaldeners  had  refused  civilised 
government  so  they  thwarted  all  attempts  to 
educate  their  children.  As  I  have  said,  the 
people  of  Stans  sit  in  almost  total  darkness  a 
great  part  of  the  year. 

But  the  lake  is  the  greatest  deUght  of  Lucerne, 

182 


Little  Journeys  from  Lucerne 

the  source  of  its  popularity  to-day  as  it  has  been 
of  its  prosperity  in  the  past.  The  lake  of  the 
four  valleys — for  so  Mr  Coolidge  says  we  must 
translate  the  name  Vierwaldstattersee — is  the 
Mediterranean  of  Switzerland  :  on  its  shores  the 
republic  was  born,  from  them  it  has  grown  in 
all  directions.  Every  spot  at  which  we  touch 
recalls  some  episode  in  the  making  of  the  nation. 
There  may  be,  for  all  I  know,  other  inland 
waters  which  surpass  these  in  beauty,  but  none 
can  unite  to  the  same  degree  natural  gran- 
deur with  historical  significance  and  romantic 
interest. 

It  is  strange  to  reflect  as  we  pass  so  lightly  over 
this  lake  between  these  sheer  walls  of  rock  that 
an  abyss  of  water  lies  beneath  us  nearly  four 
times  deeper  than  the  North  Sea.  Of  course 
this  depth  is  trifling  compared  with  that  of  Lago 
Maggiore,  which  smiles  up  at  the  sky  646  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea  and  reaches  down  552 
feet  below  it.  Yet  even  the  Lake  of  Lucerne  can 
be  stirred  by  the  fohn  or  south  wind  into  fury 
as  terrible  as  that  of  any  ocean.  Near  Brunnen 
the  spray  is  sent  fifty  or  sixty  feet  high  into  the 
air,  and  it  is  easy  to  understand  the  terror  of 
the  conscience-stricken  Gessler.  The  lake  should 
prove  a  good  training-ground  for  the  open  seas, 
and,  in  fact,  the  boatmen  have  enjoyed  a  repu- 
tation for  seamanship  from  the  earliest  times. 
Some  of  them  were  employed  by  the  Doge  of 

183 


Switzerland 

Venice  at  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth 
century  in  an  expedition  to  Syria.  Steamers 
were  first  launched  on  the  lake  in  1836,  and  since 
then  have  multiplied  rapidly.  Motor-driven 
craft  are  now  almost  as  numerous,  and  motor 
boat-races  are  among  the  recognised  events  of 
a  Lucerne  season.  A  once-famous  boat,  the 
Trefle-a-Quatre,  came  to  grief  in  1905  on  the 
pointed  rock  named  the  Schillerstein  opposite 
Brunnen. 

There  is  one  pretty  village  nestling  among 
orchards  between  the  foot  of  the  Rigi  and  the 
water's  edge  which  has  a  history  curious  enough 
to  be  related  here.  This  is  Gersau^  which  for 
five  hundred  years  constituted  a  distinct  sove- 
reign state — the  smallest  perhaps  ever  known 
in  Europe.  Its  territory  never  exceeded  three 
miles  by  two,  its  population  at  the  present  day 
falls  short  of  two  thousand.  The  origin  of  this 
tiny  republic  is  unromantic.  Held  for  centuries 
by  the  abbey  of  Muri,  then  by  the  Hapsburgs, 
it  was  mortgaged  in  1333  to  two  of  the  richest 
inhabitants,  Rudolf  von  Freienbach  and  Jost 
von  Mos.  The  villagers  then  set  to  work  to 
hoard  up  their  pennies,  and  in  1390  acquired 
the  land  from  the  mortgagees  for  690  pfen- 
nigs. Gersau  had  already  joined  the  league 
of  the  forest  cantons,  and  one  of  her  men 
captured  the  banner  of  the  Count  of  Hohen- 
zollern  at  Sempach.     Her  neighbour  Weggis  had 

184 


Little  Journeys  from  Lucerne 

in  like  manner  bought  her  freedom,  but  was 
bought  up  again  by  Lucerne.  That  domineering 
town  tried  how  to  obtain  possession  of  Gersau, 
but  on  an  appeal  to  the  arbitration  of  Berne  her 
claims  were  dismissed,  and  the  liberties  of  the 
little  republic  were  affirmed  by  the  Emperor 
Sigmund  in  1433. 

There  seems  often  to  have  been  bad  blood 
between  the  village  and  the  city,  and  the  other 
cantons  had  frequently  to  intervene  to  preserve 
the  peace.  In  the  course  of  these  disputes  the 
Lucerners  hung  a  man  of  straw  on  the  gallows 
at  Gersau,  in  derision  of  the  inhabitants'  pre- 
tensions to  power  over  life  and  limb  ;  and  the 
Gersau  men  promptly  clothed  it  in  the  blue  and 
white  colours  of  Lucerne,  to  the  intense  indigna- 
tion of  the  townsmen.  By  order  of  the  con- 
federates the  colours  were  removed  by  one  party 
and  the  figure  itself  by  the  other.  It  is  a  pity 
that  the  little  community  did  not  realise  that  the 
existence  of  a  gallows  is  in  itself  a  disgrace  to  any 
state  large  or  small,  and  that  the  best  fruits  it  can 
bear  are  the  people  who  advocate  its  retention. 

Gersau,  like  all  the  surrounding  districts,  held 
fast  by  the  old  faith,  and  even  sent  its  quota  of 
men  to  fight  the  Protestants  at  Kappel.  In  the 
war  of  Vilmergen  it  furnished  a  contingent  of 
seventy-five  men  to  the  Catholic  army,  and  in 
1712  as  many  as  ninety-two  Gersauers  fought  for 
their  faith  under  the  banner  of  the  local  saint, 

185 


Switzerland 

Marcellus.  In  1798  that  banner  was  surrendered 
to  the  French  troops  and  the  ancient  repubhc 
was  absorbed  in  the  new  Helvetic  state. 

In  18 14  Gersau,  with  all  the  other  lumber  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  floated  to  the  surface  once 
more,  and  absurdly  enough  sent  a  contingent 
of  twenty-four  men  to  join  the  allied  armies  on 
the  return  of  Napoleon  from  Elba.  But  the 
powers,  so  far  from  being  grateful  for  this  assist- 
ance, coolly  handed  over  the  little  state  to  her 
former  friend  and  protector,  the  canton  Schwyz  ; 
with  which,  in  spite  of  piteous  appeals  and  pas- 
sionate protests,  it  was  finally  incorporated  in 
April  1818. 

Beyond  Gersau,  steering  south,  the  scenery  of 
the  lake  changes.  It  becomes  sublime  rather 
than  beautiful.  Chalets  and  gardens  no  longer 
welcome  you  to  shore.  The  mountains  close  in, 
and  rise  on  either  side  sheer  upward  from  the 
profound  waters.  At  Brunnen  we  catch  a 
glimpse  of  a  level  valley  reaching  up  to  Schwyz 
and  the  mountains  behind.  Immediately  after 
the  cliffs  wall  us  in.  At  their  base,  appearing 
and  disappearing  between  tunnels  scooped  in  the 
living  rock,  the  train  screams  and  whistles  on 
the  road  to  Italy.  For  human  habitations  you 
must  look  far  up  on  the  heights,  where  dark 
specks  indicate  men,  white  patches,  houses.  On 
the  western  side,  green  pastures  reach  the  verge 
of  the  precipice,   and  cattle  wander  near  the 

186 


Little  Journeys  from  Lucerne 

perilous  edge.  We  are  in  the  bay  of  Uri. 
Ahead  the  enormous  cap  of  the  Uri  Rothstock 
is  reddening  in  the  sun.  We  are  in  the  very 
heart  of  Switzerland.  Yonder  lies  the  Riitli, 
where  the  patriarchs  of  the  republic  met  in 
solemn  league  and  covenant.  What  matters  it 
whether  such  men  lived  or  died  ?  The  nation 
has  consecrated  this  spot  to  an  ideal,  which  it 
will  not  forget.  Opposite  a  chapel  marks  the 
spot  where  Tell  sprang  ashore  pushing  back  the 
boat  of  the  Austrian  oppressor  into  the  boiling 
lake.  It  is  painted  with  frescoes  illustrating  the 
patriot's  career.  At  Kiissnach,  on  that  neglected 
arm  of  the  lake  which  reaches  towards  Zug,  is 
another  chapel  to  his  memory  on  the  spot  where 
his  vengeance  was  consummated  and  Gessler  fell. 
The  wind  from  the  mountain  blows  keen  about 
our  ears  and  makes  Switzers  of  us  all. 


187 


IN    THE    LAND     OF   TELL 

One  gloomy,  thunderous  afternoon  I  landed  at 
Fluelen,  and  walked  to  Altdorf,  where,  as  I  have 
so  often  been  told,  neither  Tell  nor  anybody  shot 
any  apple.     However,  a  picturesque  fable  will 
draw  most  of  us  farther  than  a  bald  truth.     The 
little  capital  of  Uri  is  worth  visiting  for  its  own 
sake.     It  is  a  charming  little  town  built  like  our 
English  villages  on  each  side  of  the  highroad— 
the  highroad  that  leads  over  the  St  Gotthard 
into  Italy  and  to  the  end  of  Europe.     I  glanced 
upwards  at  the  dark  wood  on  the  east  which  over- 
hangs  the   town   and  protects  it   from   falling 
rocks,  and  in  which  the  woodman's  axe  may 
never   be   wielded,  just  as  Schiller  tells  us.     I 
had  read  William  Tell  while  crossing  the  lake 
and  was  rather  glad  to  finish  it.     The  comic 
relief  to  these  heroics  was  forthcoming  in  the 
village  idiot  of  Altdorf,  who  courted  my  atten- 
tion and  was  as  conscious  as  the  rest  of  his 
countrymen  of  the  commercial  value  of  physical 
pecuHarities.     Indeed  I  fancy  he  affected  to  be 
more  of  an  idiot  than  he  really  was  for  my  benefit, 
and  made  a  show  of  swallowing  a  cigarette  which 
I  had  given  him.     I  was  not  a  httle  ashamed  of 
amusing  myself  with  this  poor  devil,  and  was 
glad  when  he  was  sternly  called  off  by  a  pohce- 

i88 


>  3  J      » 

1       'J  O      I* 


J  •    • ..'  :  > 


» *.  «  ',  J  J   > .  > 


».'  ;  •.  ;  ' 


»*>»  *S>J>  >i> 


o 
ja 

c 
o 

re 
o 
CD 


(A 

< 


In  the  Land  of  Tell 

man  or  a  landamman  or  a  burgomaster  or 
some  such  official  person  wearing  a  peaked  cap 
and  a  light  tweed  suit. 

I  had  now  leisure  to  examine  Kissler's  statue 
of  the  local  hero,   a  vigorous  composition  not 
unworthy  of  its  subject.     It  is  overlooked  by  a 
tower  which  was  certainly  there  in  1307,  and  is 
stated  to  have  been  the  office  of  the  tithe  col- 
lector of  a  nunnery  at  Zurich  to  which  Uri  owed 
some  kind  of  tribute.     The  boy  is  supposed  to 
have  stood  under  a  lime-tree  hard  by,  where  the 
local  assizes  were  held.     This  was  cut  down  m 
1369  and  its  site  is  marked  by  a  fountain  with 
the  figure  of  the  founder,  a  magistrate  named 
Besler,  who  thought  himself  more  entitled  to 
commemoration  than  the  historic  tree. 

The  apple  has  played  an  important  part  in 
the  world's  history.  In  the  fruit  kingdom  it 
reigns  in  proud  sovereignty.  It  is  true  that 
countless  poets  (chiefly  of  the  young  or  college 
variety)  have  sought  inspiration  of  the  grape,  and 
that  in  the  last  decades  of  the  nineteenth  century 
the  pomegranate  tried  audaciously  to  pose  as  the 
symbol  that  should  explain  the  eternal  verities. 
But  the  passionate  pomegranate  convinced  no- 
body but  a  few  artists  and  some  young  ladies 
who  yearned  after  souls  ;  and  though  I  admit 
the  distinction  and  fascination  of  the  juice 

"  that  can  with  logic  absolute 
The  two  and  seventy  jarring  sects  confute." 

189 


Switzerland 

I  must  own  that  at  great  crises  of  history  the  ' 
human  mind  has  always  called  in  the  lordly  yet ' 
homely  apple.  And  what  a  pother  it  has  always 
caused  !  First  the  unfortunate  denouement  of 
the  garden  scene  of  the  Eden  tragedy  ;  then  ■ 
the  rape  of  Helen  and  the  Trojan  war  ;  and  last,  .' 
but  assuredly  not  least,  the  tumult  of  the  Swiss  ; 
war  of  freedom.  Placid,  succulent  fruit  of  dis-  ; 
cord  ! 

The  apple  that  raised  William  Tell  to  great- 
ness has  been  sung  by  poet  and  musician.     But  < 
not  least  pleasing  is  the  version  of  the  "  White 
Book  "  of  the  Sarnen  notary  that  dates  from 
the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century. 

"  Now  it  happened  one  day  that  the  bailiff, 
Gessler,  went  to  Ure,  and  took  it  into  his  head  t 
and  put  a  pole  under  the  lime-tree  in  Ure,  and 
set  up  a  hat  upon  the  pole,  and  had  a  servant  near 
it,  and  made  a  command  whoever  passed  by 
there  he  should  bow  before  the  hat,  as  though  , 
the  lord  were  there  ;   and  he  who  did  it  not,  j 
him  he   would    punish    and    cause    to    repent  i 
heavily,  and  the  servant  was  to  watch  and  tell  ^ 
of  such  an  one.     Now  there  was  an  honest  man  j 
called  Thall ;    he   had  also   sworn   with    Stou- 
pacher   (in  a  conspiracy  already  made  against 
the  Austrians).     Now  he  went  rather  often  to 
and  fro  before  it.     The  servant  who  watched 
by  the  hat  accused  him  to  the  lord.     The  lord 
went  and  had  Thall  sent,  and  asked  him  why 

190 


In  the  Land  of  Tell 

e  was  not  obedient  to  his  bidding,  and  do  as  he 
vas  bidden.  Thall  spake  :  'It  happened  with- 
)ut  mahce,  for  I  did  not  know  that  it  would  vex 
i/our  Grace  so  highly  ;  for  were  I  witty,  then 
lA^ere  I  called  something  else  and  not  the  Tall' 
[[i.e.  Fool).  Now  Tall  was  a  good  archer  ;  he 
tiad  also  pretty  children.  These  the  lord  sent 
for,  and  forced  Tall  with  his  servants  that  Tall 
must  shoot  an  apple  from  the  child's  head.  Now 
Tall  saw  well  that  he  was  mastered,  and  took  an 
arrow  and  put  it  into  his  quiver  ;  the  other 
arrow  he  took  in  his  hand,  and  stretched  his 
cross-bow,  and  prayed  God  that  he  might  save 
his  child,  and  shot  the  apple  from  the  child's  head. 
The  lord  liked  this  well  and  asked  him  what  he 
meant  by  it  [that  he  had  put  an  arrow  into  his 
quiver].  He  answered  him  and  would  gladly 
have  said  no  more.  The  lord  would  not  leave 
off ;  he  wanted  to  know  what  he  meant  by  it. 
Tall  feared  the  lord,  and  was  afraid  he  would 
kill  him.  The  lord  understood  his  fear  and 
spake  :  '  Tell  me  the  truth  ;  I  will  make  thy 
life  safe  and  not  kill  thee.'  Then  spake  Tall : 
'  Since  you  have  promised  me,  I  will  tell  you  the 
truth,  and  it  is  true  :  had  the  shot  failed  me,  so 
that  I  had  shot  my  child,  I  had  shot  the  arrow 
into  you  or  one  of  your  men.'  Then  spake  the 
lord  :  '  Since  now  this  is  so,  it  is  true  I  have 
promised  thee  not  to  kill  thee,'  and  had  him 
bound,    and   said   he   would   put    him   into   a 

191 


Switzerland 

place  where  he  would  never  more  see  sun  or 
moon."  1 

Then  Tell  was  thrown  into  a  boat,  and  the 
lord  Gessler  sailed  with  him  for  a  dark  dungeon. 
But  a  great  storm  came  on,  and  the  boatmen 
were  fearful  that  they  would  sink.  So  they  un- 
loosed Tell  (for  he  was  a  skilful  sailor),  and  bade 
him  take  them  to  land.  He  made  for  a  flat  rock, 
and,  just  as  he  brought  the  craft  alongside,  seized' 
his  forfeited  bow  and  arrow^s.  Then  jumping' 
out  himself  on  to  the  rock,  he  pushed  the  boat 
with  Gessler  and  the  terrified  sailors  adrift  on 
the  stormy  waters.  Ever  since  the  rock  has 
been  known  as  "  Tellsplatte."  But  fearing  that 
Gessler  might  escape  Tell  fled  swiftly  over  the 
hills  to  the  "  Hohle  Gasse,"  near  Kiissnacht, 
and  there  laid  himself  in  ambush  to  wait  for  the 
coming  of  the  lord.  At  last  he  came,  and  Tell, 
loosing  an  arrow  from  his  bow,  shot  the  tyrant 
dead.  And  Gessler  fell  back,  crying  with  his 
latest  breath,  "  This  is  Tell's  shaft."  But  Tell 
went  away  over  the  mountains  to  his  home  in 
Uri.  V  The  chronicler  of  the  ''  White  Book  "  does 
not  say  that  Gessler's  defier  took  any  other  part 
in  the  uprising  of  the  cantons,  or  tell  of  any  of 
his  exploits  in  the  war  of  freedom. 

Such  is  the  legend  of  William  Tell,  the  archer- 
patriot,  the  prototype  of  Swiss  liberty.  One 
might  quarrel  with  the  idolatry  that  has  been 

»  Translation  by  Mr  W.  D.  M'Crackan. 
192 


In  the  Land  of  Tell 

lavished  on  him.  It  would  have  been  more  heroic 
to  refuse  the  test  that  endangered  his  child's  life, 
to  have  shot  down  the  tyrant  where  he  stood, 
instead  of  lurking  behind  bushes  to  assassinate. 
But  why  carp  at  the  details  of  a  picturesque 
story,  when  alas  !  criticism  with  its  heavy  foot 
dogs  the  nimble  steps  of  the  romancer  ?  ^^  ^  ^ . 

At  one  time  the  heresy  of  the  unbeliever  met  I, 

with  harsh  treatment  at  the  hands  of  the  patriotic 
people  of  Uri.  In  1760  a  certain  Uriel  Freuden- 
berger  wrote  a  pamphlet  that  cast  doubts  on 
the  historical  existence  of  the  hero,  and  immedi- 
ately an  infuriated  populace  seized  on  the  offend- 
ing papers  and  had  them  burned  publicly  by  the 
hangman.  But  even  earlier  than  this  the  legend 
had  been  looked  at  askance,  for  were  not  all 
contemporary  chroniclers  silent  about  him  ? 
Yet  it  was  asserted  that  in  1388  no  less  than 
a  hundred  and  fourteen  persons  in  Uri  had  sworn 
to  the  landsgemeinde  that  they  personally  had 
known  Tell.  How  convincing  it  would  have  been 
if  eighty  years  after  Napoleon's  death  the  French 
Chamber  had  been  forced  to  call  together  a  hun- 
dred persons  to  swear  to  the  conqueror's  exist- 
ence ! 

The  legend,  indeed,  is  older  by  far  than  Swiss    ^  ^ 

freedom.  The  skilful  longbowman  forced  by  a 
tyrant  to  shoot  an  apple  from  the  head  of  his  i 

child  is   a  figure   familiar   to   the   folk-lore    of  \ 

half-a-dozen  Germanic  countries.     As  far  north 
N  193 


Switzerland 

as  Iceland  is  his  exploit  sung,  in  Norway,  Den- 
mark and  Holstein,  and  by  the  green  waters  of 
the  Rhine.  Saxo  Grammaticus,  the  twelfth- 
century  father  of  Hamlet,  has  told  the  story 
in  pompous  Latin ;  the  author  of  "  William 
Cloudesly  "  has  repeated  it  in  the  pure  English 
of  our  ancient  ballads.  But  Cloudesly  was  more 
akin  in  character  to  Robin  Hood  and  the  English 
heroes  of  the  merry  greenwood  than  to  the 
Swiss  patriot.  He  proposed  tSe  apple  test  in  a 
spirit  of  braggadocio  to  save  his  own  neck.  Still 
a  comparison  of  the  two  legends  leaves  no  doubt 
of  their  common  origin : 

"  Thou  art  the  best  archer,  then  sayd  the  Kynge, 
Forsothe  that  ever  I  se. 
And  yet  for  your  love,  sayd  Wyllyam 
I  wyll  do  more  maystery. 

"  I  have  a  sonne  is  seven  yere  olde, 
He  is  to  me  full  deare  ; 
I  wyll  hym  tye  to  a  stake  ; 

All  shall  se,  that  be  here  ;  *•» 

"  And  lay  an  apple  upon  hys  head, 
And  go  syxe  score  paces  hym  fro, 
And  I  my  selfe  with  a  brode  arrow 
Shall  cleve  the  apple  in  two. 

"  Now  haste  the,  then  sayd  the  Kynge, 
By  hym  that  dyed  on  a  tre. 
But  yf  thou  do  not,  as  thou  hast  sayde 
Hanged  shalt  thou  be. 


194 


In  the  Land  of  Tell 

"  That  I  have  promised,  sayd  Wyllyam 
That  I  wyll  never  forsake. 
And  there  even  before  the  Kynge 
In  the  earth  he  drove  a  stake  : 

"  And  bound  thereto  hys  eldest  sonne. 
And  bad  hj^m  stand  styll  thereat ; 
And  turned  the  childs  face  hym  fro, 
Because  he  should  not  start. 

"  An  apple  upon  hys  head  he  set 
And  then  hys  bowe  he  lent : 
Syxe  score  paces  they  were  meaten 
And  thether  Cloudesle  went. 

"  There  he  drew  out  a  fayr  brode  arrowe, 
His  bowe  was  great  and  longe, 
He  set  that  arrowe  in  his  bowe. 
That  was  both  styffe  and  stronge. 

•  ••••• 

"  Cloudesle  clefte  the  apple  in  two. 
His  soone  he  dyd  not  nee. 
'  Ouer  Godes  forbode,'  sayde  the  Kynge, 
'  That  thou  should  shote  at  me  ! '  " 

William  of  course  not  only  saves  his  life,  but  is 
given  a  position  of  trust  about  the  king ;  his 
wife  and  children  are  well  provided  for,  and  all 
ends  happily  in  the  good  old-fashioned  English 
way. 

But  quite  apart  from  the  fact  that  this  apple 
legend  was  in  circulation  long  before  its  hero  is 
said  to  have  lived,  it  is  quite  impossible  to  find 
any  niche  in  history  for  the  picturesque  figure  of 
Wilham  Tell.     Gessler,  in  the  "  White  Book,"  was 

195 


Switzerland 

one  of  the  Hapsburg  bailiffs,  but  alas  !  in  Uri 
the  last  Hapsburg  bailiff  was  found  in  1231, 
and  the  cleaving  of  the  apple  is  placed  by  its 
defenders  some  eighty  years  later.  The  three 
forest  cantons  of  Switzerland  did  indeed  unite 
against  the  Austrian's  tyranny,  but  it  was  by  a 
long  and  weary  struggle,  in  which  the  whole 
population  bore  a  part,  that  independence  was 
achieved,  not  by  the  exploits  of  a  single  man. 
History  has  given  the  cantons  the  more  honour- ' 
able  part,  but  every  patriotic  Swiss  prefers 
the  romantic  story  of  Tell  and  the  murdered 
tyrant  to  the  more  sober  narrative  of  the  quiet 
heroism  of  his  peasant  ancestry. 

The  truth  is  William  Tell  was  an  epical  char- 
acter, as  Achilles  was,  differing  only  in  degree' 
and  remoteness,   not  in  kind.     The  notary  of| 
Sarnen  was  not  a  genius,  therefore  we  have  no 
Iliad.     But   what   we  have  is   a   collection   ofj 
popular    legends,    embodying    the    ideals    and! 
aspirations  of  a  rude  but  freedom-loving  people, 
who    had    just    shaken    themselves    free    of    ai 
tyrant's   yoke.     For   years   these   stories   were 
handed  down  by  word  of  mouth,  then,  when  the 
young  confederation  was  flushed  with  victory, 
rejoicing   in    its   overthrow   of    that    pillar    of  I 
European  chivalry,   Charles  the  Bold  of  Bur- 
gundy, for  the  first  time  the  legends  were  put 
down  in  black  and  white.     Three  heroes  were 
put  forward,  one  by  each  of  the  three  cantons  of 

196 


In  the  Land  of  Tell 

Uri,  Unterwalden  and  Schwyz,  Queerly  enough, 
the  most  legendary  of  the  trio  caught  most 
deeply  the  popular  fancy. 

It  is  strange  that  pride  in  a  heroic  past  is  more 
deep-seated  in  states  and  individuals  than  is  the 
desire  for  a  splendid  future.  The  forest  cantons, 
having  won  to  independence  by  their  own 
exertions,  created  for  themselves  a  mythical 
and  glorious  history.  They  had  been,  they  said, 
from  time  immemorial  free  and  independent 
republics.  Voluntarily  they  had  submitted  to 
the  Emperor  Frederick  II.  But  the  hated 
Hapsburg  had  oppressed  them,  had  insulted 
them  by  giving  them  cruel  and  rapacious 
governors.  In  Tell  the  ancient  spirit  of  inde- 
pendence had  reawakened.  He  had  restored 
them  to  the  possession  of  their  ancient  rights. 
And  so  the  heroes'  sword,  or,  to  speak  more 
strictly,  arrows,  gleamed  brighter  for  this  re- 
flection of  the  age  of  gold. 

Other  legends  there  are  that  cluster  round  this 
first  stand  made  for  freedom  by  the  Swiss. 
These  are  really  marked  by  a  certain  degree  of 
historical  accuracy,  though  the  colours  are 
heightened  by  the  romancers'  imagination.  The 
oppressions  of  the  bailiffs  are  still  set  forward 
as  the  ultimate  cause  of  revolt. 

At    Samen,    von    Landenberg,  the  governor, 

coveted  a  fine  yoke  of  oxen  belonging  to  a  farmer 

of  Melchi.     He  sent  his  servants  to  take  them 

197 


Switzerland 

by  force,  charged  to  tell  the  farmer  thati 
"  peasants  must  draw  the  plough  "  themselves. 
This  enraged  the  old  man's  son,  who  struck  at 
one  of  the  servants  with  his  ox-goad,  breaking 
his  finger.  The  insulted  governor  sent  for  the 
rebellious  youth,  but  he  had  fled,  fearing  the 
lord's  anger.  So  von  Landenberg  seized  on  the 
old  farmer  himself,  dragged  him  to  the  castle  and 
had  his  eyes  put  out. 

And  other  governors  were  just  as  bad. 

"In  those  days  there  was  an  upright  man  in 
Alzellen  who  had  a  pretty  wife,  and  he  who  was 
lord  there  wanted  to  have  the  woman  whether 
she  would  or  not.  The  lord  came  to  Alzellen  into 
her  house  ;  the  husband  was  in  the  forest.  He 
forced  the  woman  to  make  ready  a  bath  for  him, 
and  said  she  must  bathe  with  him.  The  woman 
prayed  God  to  keep  her  from  shame.  .  ,  .  The 
husband  came  in  the  meantime  and  asked  her; 
what  ailed  her.  She  spake  :  '  The  lord  is  there 
and  forced  me  to  make  ready  a  bath  for  him.' 
The  husband  grew  angry,  and  went  in  and  smote 
the  lord  to  death  in  that  hour  with  an  axe,  and  | 
delivered  his  wife  from  shame."  ^ 

At  the  same  time  Gessler  reappears  as  bailiff' 
"in  the  name  of  the  empire"   at  Steinen  in, 
Schwyz,    where    lived    also    one    Stoupacher. 
Stoupacher  had  prospered  in  the  world  and  built 
for  himself  a  fine  house  of  stone.     One  day  the 
1  Translation  by  Mr  W.  D.  M'Crackan. 
198 


I  In  the  Land  of  Tell 

I  bailiff  noticed  it  and  demanded  whose  it  was. 
j  "It  belongs  to  God,  your  lordship,  and  to  me," 
j  replied  the  man,  for  he  feared  exceedingly  the 
anger  of  the  lord.  And  Gessler  wrathfuUy  said 
that  it  was  a  fine  thing  for  a  peasant  to  have  so 
fine  a  house,  and  continued  to  harass  Stoupacher 
because  of  it.  When  this  weighed  down  the 
heart  of  the  good  man,  his  wife  begged  to  know 
the  cause  of  his  sadness,  for  she  said,  "  Although 
it  is  said  that  women  give  but  foolish  counsels, 
who  knows  what  the  Almighty  may  not  bring  to 
pass  ?  "  So  he  laid  bare  his  sorrow  to  his  wife, 
who  counselled  him  to  seek  out  others  in  Uri 
and  Unterwalden  who  suffered  also  at  the  hands 
of  the  governors.  And  she  told  him  of  the 
families  of  Fiirst  and  of  Zur  Frauen. 

Now  before  long  Stoupacher  fell  in  with  him 
who  had  struck  the  servant  of  von  Landenberg 
with  the  ox-goad,  burning  to  avenge  his  blinded 
father,  and  also  with  one  of  the  Fiirsts  of  Uri. 
"  Each  confided  his  need  and  grief  to  the  other, 
and  took  counsel  and  they  took  an  oath  to- 
gether. And  when  the  three  had  sworn  to  each 
other,  then  they  sought  and  found  one  from 
Nidwalden  ;  he  also  swore  with  them,  and  they 
found  now  and  again  secretly,  men  whom  they 
drew  to  themselves,  and  swore  to  each  other 
faith  and  truth,  both  to  risk  life  and  goods,  and 
to  defend  themselves  against  the  lords,  and 
when  they  wanted  to  do  and  undertake  any- 

199 


Switzerland 

thing,  they  went  by  the  Myten  Stein  at  night 
to  a  place  which  is  called  Riitli.  There  they  met 
together  and  each  one  of  them  brought  men 
with  him  in  whom  they  could  trust,  and  con- 
tinued that  some  time  and  met  nowhere  else  in 
those  days  save  in  the  Riitli." 

Now  so  monstrous  were  the  oppressions  of  the 
bailiffs  that  before  long  a  powerful  band  of  injured 
men  gathered  around  Stoupacher  in  the  moun- 
tains, until  at  last  they  were  so  strong  that  they 
were  able  to  carry  on  warfare  against  the  Haps- 
burg  rulers.  Strong  towers  and  castles  they 
took  and  levelled  with  the  ground,  Zwing  Uri 
near  Amsteg,  Swandau  in  Schwyz,  Rotzberg 
in  Nidwalden,  and  the  castle  of  Samen  in 
Obwalden,  where  there  was  a  very  fierce  fight. 
And  when  the  governors  had  been  expelled,  the 
three  forest  cantons  made  a  perpetual  league  to 
guard  their  independence,  and  made  Becken- 
ried  the  place  of  their  meetings. 

That  is  the  "White  Book"  narrative.  It 
bristles  with  inaccuracies,  but  at  least  the  names 
of  von  Landenberg,  Stauffacher  or  Stoupacher, 
Fiirst  and  Zur  Frauen  are  known  to  history.  The 
story  of  the  three  men  meeting  by  night  on  the 
lonely  Riitli  is  picturesque,  and  not  impossible. 
History  does  not  confirm  it,  neither  does  she 
condemn  it  ;  and  the  Riitli  cries  out  for  a  con- 
spiracy, just  as  Stevenson  declares  that  certain 
spots  demand  a  murder.     So  the  reader  may 

200 


•     >   '  .' 


>  '  »   »     ■■>• 
1    '»    e        •      J 


»       •         •••».»,.*♦.    •^»»       ' 


4   »  «  •      « 


•   »  •   •  ^^ 


.:»'.«•    ). 


'  \.:\''''^: :  ' 


►J 


O 
(A 

o 

■o 
c 

c 

E 

o 


•   y   "'  ^  t\^'  " 


I 


In  the  Land  of  Tell 

take  or  leave  the  story  as  he  will.  For  my  part, 
I  incline  towards  that  suspension  of  disbelief  for 
a  moment  that  is  supposed  to  constitute  poetic 
faith. 

Yet  it  is  a  pity  that  the  growth  of  at  best 
dubious  legends  should  have  been  allowed  to 
obscure  in  the  popular  imagination  the  splendid 
fight  that  the  peasants  of  the  mountains  and  the 
forests  actually  made  for  freedom.  The  battle 
of  Morgarten  in  1315  has  been  termed  the  Swiss 
Thermopylae,  but  by  it  the  cantons  won,  not 
lost,  their  liberty.  As  a  source  of  inspiration 
it  should  be  equal  at  least  to  Bannockburn.  It 
was  a  dramatic  episode.  The  peasantry  of  the 
forest  states  had  at  last  dared  to  take  arms 
against  the  power  of  Austria  :  the  monastery  of 
Einsiedeln  had  been  attacked.  Then  the  Em- 
peror sent  out  an  expedition  under  his  brother 
Leopold  to  crush  the  insolent  upstarts  who  had 
dared  to  flout  the  head  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Empire.  Proudly  the  thoughtless  cavalcade 
trooped  into  the  narrow  pass  of  Morgarten,  and 
along  the  Lake  of  Egeri.  The  morning  sun- 
light flashed  on  burnished  armour,  and  fluttering 
pennons  of  rainbow  hues  challenged  the  hoary 
mountains.  Then  suddenly  a  rattle  of  pebbles 
down  the  hillsides  that  changed  to  a  thundering 
roar  as  huge  boulders  were  dislodged,  bounding 
from  crag  to  crag  until  they  scattered  death 
among  the  Austrian  host.     The  despised  peasants 

201 


Switzerland 

had  grimly  ranged  themselves  on  the  neighbour- 
ing heights.     A  fusillade  succeeded  of  rocks  an( 
tree-trunks.     Panic  spread  among  the  Austrians.] 
In  the  pass  of  Morgarten  was  a  struggling  mass 
of  men  and  horses,  fighting  against  each  othei 
to  escape  from  the  death  trap  in  which  the] 
found  themselves.     Down  rushed  the  peasants 
from  the  hills.     Before  their  scythes  and  axes 
the  flower  of  the  Empire  went  down,  or,  flying 
headlong,  were  driven  by  thousands  into  the  sunj 
lit  waters  of  the  lake.   Leopold,  pale  and  terrifiedj 
escaped  to  bring  the  news  of  the  slaughter  of  his 
troops.     A  few  weeks  later  the  victors  met  a^ 
Brunnen,  and  on  gth  December  1315  renewec 
and  extended  the  pact  of  1291,  which  for  fiv^ 
hundred  years  formed  the  basis  of  the  ieden 
union. 

It  is,  of  course,  of  no  material  importanc^ 
whether  Tell  actually  lived  or  not,  and  one's  onl] 
regret  is  that  Switzerland  was  not  endowed  witl 
a  more  nobly-imagined  national  hero.  Howevei 
he  appears  to  satisfy  the  aspirations  of  oldl 
fashioned  Switzers,  particularly  of  his  fellowj 
countrymen  of  Uri.  Once  a  year  Schiller T 
rather  tedious  tragedy  is  acted  in  the  littl] 
wooden  theatre  on  the  outskirts  of  Altdoi 
The  audience  is  usually  composed  of  local  people 
and  of  friends  of  the  performers,  with  a  sprinkling 
of  tourists.  There  are  generally  several  monks 
and  priests  to  be  seen  on  the  rough  wooden 

202 


tin  the  Land  of  Tell 
benches.  The  clergy  have  always  been  staunch 
upholders  of  the  legend.  The  cast  is  composed, 
as  at  Ober  Ammergau,  of  people  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood— innkeepers,  farmers,  schoolmasters, 
artisans,  and  shopkeepers.  They  are  partly 
selected  because  of  their  physical  fitness  for  the 
parts,  and  are  very  well  trained  by  the  director 
of  the  Lucerne  cantonal  theatre.  They  are 
somewhat  stagy  and  wooden,  like  most  amateurs, 
but  the  audience  is  not  critical  and  appreciates 
their  obvious  sincerity.  Between  the  acts  you 
go  out  into  the  air,  and  regale  yourself  with  beer 
and  cakes  under  the  trees  till  a  cow-bell  an- 
nounces the  end  of  the  interval. 


203 


EINSIEDELN 

The  Virgin  Mother  is  beloved  in  the  country  ol 
Tell.  The  arid  theology  of  Geneva  has  chase( 
her  from  many  of  the  newer  cantons,  but  ii 
the  mountain  fastnesses  of  Einsiedeln  she  keeps 
her  ancient  state  and  splendour  and  draws  to  hei 
shrine  pilgrims  from  every  quarter  of  the  globe 
to  the  number  of  two  hundred  thousand  ever^ 
year. 

She  is  miraculous,  Our  Lady  of  the  Hermitsj 
Many  times  has  she  escaped  the  perils  of  fire  anc 
war.  Five  times  has  her  habitation  been  burnt! 
to  the  ground,  but  always  the  sacred  image  has 
reappeared  to  bring  consolation  to  thousands 
of  the  faithful.  Her  altars  are  hung  witl 
votive  tablets,  which,  in  crude  line  and  garisl 
colour,  tell  the  story  of  marvellous  escapes  and 
recoveries,  which  never  would  have  taken  place 
but  for  the  gracious  intercession  of  Our  Lady. 

It  is  a  desolate  spot,  you  think,  that  the  holy 
maiden  has  chosen  for  her  miracles  ;  dark  and 
wind-swept,  backed  by  a  forest  of  gloomy  firs, 
with  the  two  sharp  peaks  of  the  Mythen  in  the 
distance.  Still  less  happy  is  the  building  that 
men  raised  for  her  in  the  first  half  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century.     Of  no  particular  architecture, 

204 


Einsiedeln 

the  Benedictine  monastery  rears  two  nondescript 
towers,  one  on  either  side  of  the  doorway,  and 
then,  with  geometrical  precision,  extend  two 
wings  of  commonplace  masonry  to  right  and 
left.  In  front  of  these  sweep  semicircular 
colonnades,  the  style  in  imitation  of  Bernini. 

But  gay  and  humming  with  life  is  the  little 
town  of  nearly  nine  thousand  inhabitants  which 
has  grown  up  round  the  monastery.  For 
Einsiedeln  has  become  a  second  Lourdes,  and 
pilgrims  of  all  classes  must  be  catered  for  just  as 
though  they  were  vulgar  tourists.  And,  more- 
over. Catholic  pilgrims  must  always  have 
offerings  to  lay  before  the  shrines  of  saints,  with 
relics  and  souvenirs  that  can  be  dipped  in  holy 
water  and  blessed  by  the  priests  on  days  of 
festival.  So  the  little  town  is  crowded  with 
shops  and  open  stalls  where  tinsel  saints  and 
Virgins  of  wax  or  plaster,  where  sacred  hearts 
and  models  of  human  limbs,  with  medals, 
pictures,  lockets  and  beads,  heaped  together  in  a 
tawdry  jumble,  are  loudly  canvassed  by  their 
enterprising  hawkers.  Religion  and  commercial 
3nterprise  join  hands.  The  cinematograph  is 
pressed  into  the  service  of  Christ  and  the 
Mother  of  God ;  pilgrimages  to  Jerusalem, 
famous  miracles,  and  the  representation  of 
the  Passion  are  jerked  before  the  eyes  of  the 
sober,  pious  bourgeois  who  form  the  great 
mass  of  the  September  pilgrims.     The  audience 

205 


Switzerland 

is  edified   and  no  one's  sense   of   propriety  is 
shocked. 

During  the  weeks  of  festival  one  of  the  chiel 
attractions  of  this  mountain  sanctuary  is  the 
fountain  that  stands  in  the  centre  of  the  opei 
space  in  front  of  the  monastery — Our  Lady's 
Spring.  For  here  the  Virgin  of  the  Snows 
performs  some  of  her  most  wonderful  miracles^ 
It  is  said,  and  believed  of  simple  people,  thatj 
wandering  far  afield,  Christ  himself  came  one 
day  to  this  spring,  and  being  thirsty,  drank  dee] 
of  its  waters,  which  straightway  he  blessed  foi 
ever  afterwards.  And  pilgrims  tell  of  marvel- 
lous cures  effected  at  the  fountain  under  the 
smile  of  his  holy  mother,  who  watches  over  the 
sacred  water  from  the  shadow  of  a  grey  marble 
canopy  supported  on  seven  columns.  The  bline 
see,  the  dumb  speak,  the  sick  are  cured  of  then 
diseases,  the  sins  of  the  penitent  are  washec 
away,  exactly  as  in  the  days  of  the  apostles. 

Hundreds  of  pilgrims  gather  round  the  spring 
to  take  their  share  in  its  benefits.  But  here 
difiiculty  arises.  The  water  is  thrown  into  the 
basin  through  fourteen  jets  of  bronze,  eacl 
representing  some  strange  bird  or  beast.  Froi 
which  jet  of  water  did  the  Master  drink  ?  Foi 
the  pilgrim  ascribes  a  great  antiquity  to  the  little 
bronze  and  marble  structure  !  So,  as  no  tablel 
points  out  the  sacred  stream,  he  must  drinl 
from  each  in  turn,  lest  by  chance  he  should  hil 

206 


Einsiedeln 

m  one  that  had  not  satisfied  the  Divine  thirst, 
lor  received  the  Divine  blessing. 

Having  thus  secured  salvation  both  for  his 
aody  and  his  soul,  the  pilgrim  now  passes  on  into 
;he  Church  of  Our  Lady,  which  stands  in  the 
centre  of  the  convent  buildings.  If  it  is  some 
jreat  feast  day,  such  as  the  Feast  of  the  Rosary, 
le  will  find  the  building  a  dazzling  blaze  of 
ight  and  colour.  Every  altar  in  this  vast 
:hurch  gleams  with  its  halo  of  a  myriad  waxen 
:andles.  Every  inch  of  wall-space  is  painted  in 
flowing  colours  ;  every  niche  is  occupied  by  the 
igure  of  saint  or  angel  with  garments  of  corn- 
lower  blue  and  flaming  scarlet,  overlaid  with 
leavy  gilding.  Everywhere  on  walls  and 
Vaulted  ceiling  are  pictures  and  frescoes,  painted 
vith  a  wealth  of  symbolism  and  ornament. 
The  Virgin  Mary,  the  apostles,  prophets,  kings, 
md  patriarchs ;  Abraham,  Isaac  and  David, 
he  angel  Gabriel,  Adam  and  Eve,  Jephthah, 
^elchizedech  and  Elias,  all  claim  attention  along 
vith  the  supreme  sacrifice  of  the  Christ.  Jacob's 
^adder  appears  behind  the  altar  of  St  Rosary, 
md  St  Meinrad,  the  holy  founder  of  the  abbey, 
idorns  that  dedicated  to  himself;  and  raised 
Lbove  all,  as  the  crowning  glory  of  the  edifice, 
s  Kraus'  enormous  "  Assumption  of  the  Virgin  " 
vith  its  garlands  of  cherubs'  heads. 

In  a  dark  chapel  beneath  the  gaudy  dome  is 
reasured  the  image  of  Our  Lady  which  has  made 

207 


Switzerland 

the  fame  of  Einsiedeln.  It  is  but  a  piece  of 
rudely  carved  pine  wood,  but  the  devout  have 
clothed  it  in  rich  brocades  and  decked  it  with 
costly  jewels.  For  to  the  wealthy  pilgrim  from 
foreign  shores,  just  as  to  the  humble  peasant 
woman  of  the  mountains,  this  statue  is  the 
vehicle  through  which  the  ever-interceding 
Mother  of  God  has  chosen  to  rain  down  benefits 
on  humanity.  And  so  the  space  in  front  of  the 
grating  that  half  reveals  the  image  in  its  shrine 
is  always  thronged  with  worshippers,  and  the 
walls  are  hung  with  wax  dolls,  knots  of  white 
ribbon,  tawdry  paintings  and  inscriptions — 
all  the  offerings  of  gratitude. 

Highly  treasured  by  the  Benedictine  brothers 
is  a  magnificent  chandelier  of  gilded  bronze, 
a  gift  from  the  Emperor  Napoleon  III.  Many 
European  monarchs  have  presented  their  por- 
traits to  the  monastery,  but  alas !  what  are 
portraits  when  princes  formerly  bestowed  fiefs 
and  fertile  lands  ?  For  now,  after  a  career 
of  temporal  glory,  Einsiedeln  has  returned  to 
the  purely  spiritual  pre-eminence  of  its  early 
days. 

Saint  Meinrad  was  the  founder  of  the  abbey, 
a  holy,  quiet-loving  man  who  would  have  fled 
in  horror  from  the  crowd  of  pilgrims  now  wor- 
shipping at  his  shrine.  He  belonged  to  the 
haughty  race  of  the  HohenzoUern,  two  members 
of  which  at   that   time   ruled   over   the   great 

208 


I 


Einsiedeln 

Benedictine  monastery  of  Reichnau,  on  the 
island  in  the  Zeller  See.  Here  the  youth  was 
sent  to  school,  and  here  he  decided  to  pass  his 
(  life,  taking  the  Benedictine  vows.  Meinrad 
possessed  uncommon  fascination  of  manner,  so 
when,  in  spite  of  his  youth,  the  monks  of  Bol- 
lingen  begged  him  to  become  director  of  their 
studies,  no  one  grudged  him  the  distinction. 
On  his  journey  thither  the  courtly  monk  called 
to  pay  his  respects  to  the  Abbess  of  Zurich,  who, 
pleased  with  his  unusual  modesty  and  learning, 
presented  him  with  a  statue  of  the  Virgin  and 
her  Child.  This  he  carried  in  his  arms  to  his 
new  abode  and  never  parted  from  it  all  his  life. 
He  was  wise  in  this,  for  the  image  was  miraculous, 
and  destined  to  become  famous  throughout  the 
length  and  breadth  of  Christendom. 

But  Meinrad  was  consumed  with  a  passion  for 
solitude,  and  finally  he  escaped  from  the  monks 
of  Bollingen,  determining  to  seek  salvation  in 
the  wilderness.  Then,  always  clinging  to  his 
Madonna,  he  crossed  over  the  lake,  and  sought 
a  refuge  on  Mount  Etzel.  But  the  young 
anchorite  was  beloved  of  all  the  mountain  folk. 
They  crowded  after  him  to  his  retreat.  And 
Meinrad,  in  true  mediaeval  fashion,  more  eager 
for  the  luxuries  of  his  own  soul  than  for  the 
happiness  of  his  fellow-men,  fled  once  more  before 
their  anxious   solicitude.     Further   and  higher 

he  clambered,  until  a  dense  and  gloomy  forest 
o  209 


Switzerland 

of  fir-trees  seemed  to  give  promise  of  security. 
This  was  known  as  the  Sombre  Forest. 

Now  before  he  had  journeyed  far  in  the 
Sombre  Forest  Meinrad  found  a  spring  of 
water.  Here  he  decided  to  make  his  dwelling. 
For  himself  he  built  a  hermit's  cell,  and  for  the 
Virgin  and  her  Child  a  chapel,  the  best  that  he 
was  able.  For  years  and  years  he  dwelt  among 
the  woods  and  mountains,  like  some  stern  St 
John  the  Baptist,  and  here  he  tamed  two  ravens, 
which  were  his  only  friends.  But  escape  from 
the  people  he  could  not,  and  he  was  forced  to 
receive,  and  counsel  and  confess  his  flock  as  he 
had  done  before.  And  the  great  holiness  of 
Meinrad  became  a  word  all  over  the  country- 
side. 

But  it  was  whispered  also  among  those  that 
hated  the  Church  that  the  holy  man  had  heaped 
up  great  treasures  in  his  cell.  And  one  day  two 
robbers  broke  in  on  him  and  murdered  him  for 
the  sake  of  his  riches,  but  they  found  nothing 
save  the  image  of  the  Virgin  and  the  Child. 
Then,  terrified,  the  robbers  fled ;  but  the  ravens 
of  Meinrad  pursued  them  wherever  they  went. 
And  finally  they  came  to  Zurich,  and  the  birds 
beat  their  wings  against  the  window  of  their 
chamber  until  they  got  in,  and  settled  down  on 
them  and  could  not  be  persuaded  to  let  them  go. 
But  the  magistrates  of  Zurich  inquired  into  the 
mystery,  and  the  news  of  the  foul  murder  got 

2IO 


Einsiedeln 

abroad,  and  the  two  ruffians  confessed  their 
crime.  "  Then,"  adds  the  mediaeval  chronicler, 
without  a  word  of  comment,  "  were  they  both 
broken  on  the  wheel."  The  seal  of  the  abbey  of 
Einsiedeln  shows  these  selfsame  ravens,  so  who 
shall  say  the  story  is  not  true  ? 
I  Many  hermits  and  anchorites  were  drawn  to 
the  Sombre  Forest  by  the  news  of  Meinrad's 
death.  Some  Benedictine  brothers  rebuilt  his 
cell.  Their  first  abbot  was  Eberhard,  who  in 
934  built  a  church  for  the  sacred  image.  The 
unusual  sanctity  of  the  place  merited  some 
supernatural  manifestation.  The  legend  runs 
that  Conrad,  the  Bishop  of  Constance,  who  was 
to  consecrate  the  chapel,  entered  it  the  night 
before  to  prepare  himself  by  prayer  for  the 
::eremony.  A  strange  sight  met  his  eyes.  A 
Light  filled  the  building  that  proceeded  from 
10  earthly  lamps  or  candles.  Clouds  of  incense 
rolled  up  from  censers  swung  by  angels,  and 
ningled  with  a  sound  of  heavenly  music.  At 
:he  altar,  attended  by  the  four  evangelists,  stood 
:he  Christ  himself,  and  behind  him  St  Peter 
md  St  Gregory.  The  consecration  of  the 
;hurch  was  celebrated  by  the  Godhead. 

All  night  and  morning  Conrad  remained  in 
)rayer,  but  the  monks  thought  he  had  been 
Ireaming  when  he  told  them  of  the  wonders 
le  had  seen.  So  at  their  desire  he  began  the 
onsecration  rite.     But  immediately  the  build- 


211 


I 


II 


Switzerland 

ing  was  filled  with  a  great  voice,  which  cried  a S 
out  warningly  :  "  Cessa,  cessa,  frater  f  Capellami 
divinitus  consecrata  est !  "  Such  was  the  proud 
origin  of  the  convent  of  Einsiedeln.  A  dozen 
successive  popes  have  affirmed  the  truth  of  the 
legend,  and  devout  peasants  still  believe  it 
among  the  mountains  of  Schwyz.  Cannot  one 
still  obtain  plenary  indulgence,  through  a  visit 
to  the  shrine  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Hermits  ? 

This  divine  baptism  at  once  gave  the  founda- 
tion of  Einsiedeln  a  prestige  among  the  monas-  |i 
teries  of  Switzerland  second  only  to  St  Gall. 
It  was  dowered  with  wealth  and  lands,  and  by 
1247  its  abbot  had  become  a  Prince  of  the  Holy  (i 
Roman  Empire,  with  a  seat  in  the  Diet.  Like 
the  lay  princes  he  had  a  household  composed  of 
the  highest  nobles  in  the  land.  He  claimed — 
and  asserted — a  sort  of  sovereignty  over  the 
people  of  Schwyz,  under  the  protection  of  the 
Count  of  Rapperschwyl  and  the  Duke  o\ 
Austria. 

But  this  suzerainty,  while  marking  the  heigh 
of  the  abbey's  power,  was  also  the  cause  of  it: 
decline.  Perpetual  quarrels  arose,  as  every 
where  in  Switzerland,  between  monks  an( 
peasants  over  conditions  of  land  tenure.  Con 
stant  complaints  went  from  Einsiedeln  to  th 
Holy  See  concerning  the  enormities  committo 
by  the  men  of  Schwyz  ;   how  when  the  cattl 

of  the  monastery  strayed  into  fields  which  th 

212 


^fti 


'k\ 


M 


Einsiedeln 

I  Schwyzers   claimed   as   their  own,  they  never 

,  came  back  again  to  the  convent.     The  peasants 

I  definitely  repudiated  all  allegiance  to  the  monks. 

,  To  the  Emperor  alone,  they  said,  did  they  owe 

!  homage.     But  the  Emperor,  rejoined  the  holy 

I  men,  had  bestowed  charters  on  the  abbey  that 

leased   to    them    the   lands    of   Schwyz.      The 

I  quarrel  became  more   bitter,   and  blood  grew 

hotter.     Then,  when  the  peasants  of  the  forest 

cantons  first  began  to  feel  the  sprouting  of  their 

wings  in  the  years  before  Morgarten,  Johannes, 

Baron  von  Schwanden,  became  abbot.    Speedily 

'  he  earned  for  himself  a  hateful  reputation  among 

the  peasant  folk.     He  got  the  Bishop  of  Con- 

i  stance    to   lay    the    whole    country   under    an 

'interdict.     The  church  doors  were  closed,   the 

bells  were  silent ;  children  and  aged  folk  were 

refused  the  help  of  religion  at  their  launching 

into   this   world   or   the   next.     Marriage   was 

I  proscribed  ;  no  longer  could   the   sinner  claim 

absolution  at  the  confessional. 

|i     The  anger  of  the  Schwyzers  blazed  out.     The 

Empire  of  which  the  forest  states  formed  part 

was  in  hot  dispute  between  Ludwig  of  Upper 

Bavaria  and  Frederick  of  Austria.     Einsiedeln 

was  under  the  protection  of  the  latter  house,  but 

I  the  intrepid  farmers  did  not  fear,  or  did  not 

realise,   the   forces   that   they  were   raising  up 

'against  themselves.     In  1314,  on  the  Feast  of 

the  Epiphany,  they  gathered  together  in  a  pro- 

213 


Switzerland  W 


IIie( 
jxes, 


lost, 

e( 


:tiei 


testing  throng  under  the  presidency  of  their 
Landamman,  Werner  Stauffacher.  Red-hot 
oratory  inflamed  their  passions.  Grasping  such 
weapons  as  they  had,  a  force  of  angry  men  surged 
out  into  the  night,  and  set  off,  shouting  for  hberty, 
on  a  three  hours'  march  to  Einsiedeln.  A 

The  expedition  was  marked  by  discreditable' 
excesses.  It  has  left  its  epic,  written  by  Rudolf 
von  Rudegg,  the  rector  of  the  seminary  of  the 
monastery.  The  monks  first  learnt  their  danger 
from  the  wild  pealing  of  the  chapel  bell,  but  by 
that  time  it  was  too  late  to  make  any  organised 
defence.  All  were  taken  prisoner.  But  while  ^"'^' 
some  of  the  attacking  party  had  been  fighting,  /°^'^ 
others  had  discovered  the  abbot's  cellars.  They  'i™' 
gave  themselves  up  to  drunken  rioting ;  they  ™ 
profaned  the  holy  places,  scattered  the  sacred  W> 
relics.  Those  soberer  than  their  brethren  searched  ''  ^^^^^ 
for  the  supposititious  charters  but  found  no  "i^^H 
trace  of  them.  To  make  up,  they  tore  the  books  'M^'^ 
of  the  brothers  from  their  bindings  and  made  a  '  ™se 
great  bonfire,  on  which  they  flung  papal  bulls,  .^^ 
accounts  and  everything  that  came  to  their  ''^^p 
hands. 

Rudegg  in  his  poem  makes  no  mention  of 
Stauffacher,  which  is  strange,  considering  the  i  ^^^  li 
position  which  that  magistrate  occupied  in  the  '  ^^^  m; 
state.  He  describes  feehngly  the  desecration  of  "lli 
his  much-loved  convent :  ^lie  ir 

"  Our  monastery  is  in  the  hands  of  the  spoilers.    §ioupe 

214  1 


Einsiedeln 

The  doors  of  the  holy  places  are  mutilated  with 
axes,  the  sacred  vessels  and  the  garments  of  the 
priests  are  seized  by  the  sacrilegious,  who  trample 
under  foot  and  scatter  to  the  winds,  not  only  the 
ashes  of  the  noble  martyrs,  but  the  consecrated 
host.  ...  At  daybreak  the  enemy  surround  the 
belfry  (whither  the  monks  had  sought  refuge) 
armed  with  crow-bars  and  blazing  torches  for 
the  assault.  The  convent  porter  takes  up  his 
place  on  the  narrow  stairway,  which,  he  tells  the 
fathers,  he  can  hold  single-handed  with  an  axe, 
as  the  enemy  must  advance  only  one  at  a  time  ; 
but  they  refuse  this  armed  defence,  as  not  meet 
for  their  order,  and  recommend  themselves  to 
God.  .  .  .  The  enemy  swarm  in,  but  we  receive 
them  with  a  courteous  greeting.  '  Have  no 
fear,'  says  one  of  them,  '  our  general  has  com- 
manded us  only  to  secure  your  persons  and  seize 
your  goods.'  Silently  we  follow  them,  glad  that 
this  is  the  worst.  We  are  lodged  in  a  separate 
house  which  proves  our  prison.  But  up  comes 
a  further  detachment,  and  finding  the  cellar 
and  pantry  bare,  grow  clamorous,  demanding 
loudly  their  share  of  the  booty  and  the  prisoners. 
1  Pandemonium  reigns.  But  at  last  the  leader 
calls  his  men  to  order  and  gives  directions  for 
the  march. 

"  The  aged  and  the  sick  they  leave  behind. 
The  monks,  the  servants  and  the  cattle  are 
grouped  in  separate  companies.     The  word  to 

215 


Switzerland 

march  is  given,  and  the  cavalcade  moves  forward. 
The  women  of  the  village,  when  they  see  their 
husbands  driven  off  with  us,  fill  the  air  with  their 
waihng,  and  call  on  Heaven  for  help.  As  we 
clamber  up  the  Katzenstrich  we  are  all  overcome, 
and  I  would  fall  off  to  rest,  but  one  of  the  guards 
bids  me  to  clutch  on  to  his  mule's  tail. 

"  After  the  mountain  is  crossed  we  reach 
Altmatt,  where  a  halt  is  made.  The  convent 
serving-men  on  payment  of  a  ransom  are  set 
free.  But  we  are  kept  close  prisoners  in  the 
house  of  Werner  Abackes  for  five  days.  Then 
comes  the  Landamman  to  escort  us  on  the  road 
to  Schwyz.  They  force  the  monks  to  walk, 
though  the  priests  are  allowed  horses.  But 
the  choir-master,  who  is  clad  in  his  robes  of 
ceremony,  cannot  get  his  enormous  boots  into 
his  stirrups.  So  his  legs  must  dangle,  and  in 
this  absurd  manner  we  pass  through  crowds  of 
jeering  peasants  into  the  town  of  Schwyz.  We 
stop  at  the  Town  Hall,  while  the  Mayor  and 
Councillors  quarrel  over  our  fate.  While  the 
argument  continues  the  local  priest  gets  the 
Landamman's  permission  to  give  us  a  good  meal. 
At  nightfall  the  magistrate  lets  us  know  that 
Peter  Jocholf  is  to  be  our  gaoler,  which  alarms  us 
greatly,  for  he  is  the  biggest  scoundrel  in  the 
town  and  knows  no  mercy.  Nine  of  us  in  all 
.  .  .  are  left  with  him.  We  sup  on  tears,  and  as 
we  rise  from  the  bare  board,  the  women,  more 

216 


1 


Einsiedein 

vindictive  than  the  men,  assail  us  violently. 
'  This  fate  is  better  than  they  deserve  !  These 
monks  who  unjustly  have  excommunicated  us 
and  taken  the  food  from  our  mouths  should 
suffer  as  we  have  suffered,  and  bear  the  punish- 
ment of  their  crimes  !  ' 

"  For  six  weeks  are  we  lodged  in  our  narrow 
prison.  .  .  .  We  beg  leave  to  send  a  messenger  to 
treat  for  our  release.  To  this  the  Landamman, 
after  taking  counsel  with  the  elders,  agrees. 
Our  ambassador  Rudolf  von  Wunwenberg  seeks 
out  the  Graf  von  Toggenburg  and  the  Graf  von 
Hapsburg,  and  secures  their  mediation  with 
the  Landamman  of  Schwyz.  Three  days  after 
his  return,  the  assembly  is  called  together; 
our  pardon  is  pronounced  ;  and  once  again  we 
are  at  liberty  !  The  priest  who  in  our  affliction 
eleven  weeks  before,  had  bidden  us  to  his  table, 
now  makes  a  splendid  banquet  to  celebrate  our 
joyful  deliverance.  We  eat  freely  of  his  meat 
md  wine — he  has  an  excellent  vintage  ! — and 
then  set  out  to  seek  our  Abbot.  So  overcome  is 
he  to  see  us  alive  as  well,  that  tears  roll  down 
lis  cheeks.  He  makes  a  great  feast  for  us  and 
Dasses  round  brimming  flagons.  And  so  restored 
>vith  meat  and  wine,  we  pass  the  hours  in  joy 
md  mirth." 

So  after  all  the  affair  ended  happily  for  the 

nonks,  for  the  Schwyzers,  in  spite  of  their  orgies 

,  )n  the  night  of  the  raid,  seem  to  have  acted  with 

t 


li 


Switzerland 

a  lack  of  brutality  quite  marvellous  in  the  four- 
teenth century. 

But  all  the  brothers  of  Einsiedeln  were  men  of 
wealth  and  high  connection,  knights  and  barons 
of  the  Empire.  Such  an  outrage  could  not  pass 
unavenged.  And  so  the  chivalry  of  Austria  rode 
against  the  forest  state,  only  to  break  their 
spears  in  vain  among  the  rocky  defiles  of  Mor- 
garten. 

The  glory  of  Einsiedeln  was  now  departed. 
The  monastery  exchanged  the  proud  position 
of  overlord  of  the  Schwyz  for  that  of  humble 
dependent,  and  in  1798  its  territories  were 
formally  annexed  by  the  canton.  The  same 
year  the  ancient  abbey  fell  a  prey  to  the  French 
invaders,  who  rifled  the  treasury  and  stripped 
the  altars  of  everything  they  could  bear  away. 
Terror  struck  the  hearts  of  the  villagers,  for 
they  feared  that  their  Black  Virgin  had  been 
desecrated  by  the  hands  of  the  spoiler.  But 
no ;  the  monks  had  fled  to  Tyrol,  bearing  with 
them  the  palladium  of  Einsiedeln,  and  back  in 
triumph  came  the  statue,  when  the  invader  had 
left  the  mountain  fastnesses. 

During  the  anti-clerical  outburst  of  the  middle 
decades  of  the  nineteenth  century,  the  monastery 
of  Our  Lady  of  the  Hermits  was  treated  by  the 
Swiss  Government  with  greater  favour  than  most 
of  the  religious  foundations.  But  even  this  last 
of  the  Benedictine  houses  lived  in  fear  of  trans- 

218 


Einsiedeln 

formation  into  a  school  or  barracks,  so  the  far- 
seeing  descendants  of  St  Meinrad  laid  up 
treasure  for  themselves  in  a  foreign  country. 
In  far-away  Indiana  they  built  a  farm  and 
church  as  a  place  of  refuge,  and  prepared  to  fly 
with  their  treasures  if  need  should  arise.  But 
the  necessity  never  came  ;  the  day  of  persecu- 
tion passed  away  ;  and  after  a  thousand  years 
the  Virgin  with  her  Child,  given  by  the  Abbess  of 
Zurich  to  the  young  monk  of  the  courtly  bearing 
and  the  yearning  eyes,  still  holds  her  court  in  her 
stately  home  among  the  mountains  and  the  pine 
woods. 


219 


THE    BERNESE    OBERLAND 

With  less  of  historic  and  human  interest  than 
Tell's  countr\^  the  Bernese  Oberland  remains 
for  most  lisitors  the  pearl  of  S\\itzerland.  It 
is  the  whole  country  in  miniature.  Lakes,  large 
and  small,  gleam  at  the  foot  of  dark  gxeen  hills, 
savage  gorges  open  upon  valle^^s  of  \'ivid 
emerald,  dazzHng  glaciers  reach  down  from 
mountains  of  majestic  form,  torrents  dissolve 
over  the  edge  of  precipices  in  a  fairy  mist — here 
you  find  all  that  you  have  come  to  Switzerland 
to  seek.  Alas  !  the  glorious  vision  is  too  often 
veiled  by  the  rain  which  keeps  the  land  so  green. 
Even  in  the  midst  of  summer  you  may  awake 
morning  after  morning  to  find  the  clouds  have 
descended  from  the  mountains  to  settle  on  the 
town.  The  cheerless  salons  of  the  hotel  are 
encumbered  all  day  with  tourists  of  all  nation- 
ahties  \'isited  onl}^  by  misfortune.  The  Enghsh 
play  bridge  and  read  Tauchnitz  editions  with 
obstinate  composure.  The  French  and  GermanSj 
after  the  manner  of  their  kind,  loaf  round,  doing 
nothing  except  smoking  and  watching  the  English. 
Occasionally  it  is  possible  to  whip  up  the  poly- 
glottic  crowd  into  some  round  game  or  the  like 
tomfoolery  ;    but  gloom  resides  on  every  brow. 

220 


The  Bernese  Oberland 

Brave  men  and  women  sally  forth  in  mackin- 
toshes and  tell  you  on  their  return  that  they 
have  enjoyed  a  grand  tramp  up  the  mountain. 
.  You  do  not  believe  them,  and  you  do  not  believe 
■  the  hotel  proprietor  when  he  tells  you  that  the 
1  rain  is  bound  to  finish  next  day .   You  call  for  your 
bill,  pack  your  traps,  and  place  the  Alps  as  quickly 
as  you  can  between  you  and  the  Oberland. 

Had  you  waited  a  day  longer  your  eyes  might 

have  opened  on  a  cloudless  sky  and  on  a  land- 

1  scape  fresh  and  glistening  as  a  dewdrop,  where 

^  the  snow  seemed  fresh  fallen  on  the  mountains, 

the  ice  washed  clear  of  all  impurity,  and  the 

grass  grown  anew  during  the  night.     Long  before 

I  noon  the  ground  is  dry,  the  mountain  paths  hard 

beneath  the  feet.     Flowers  burst  open  on  every 

side  and  a  new-bom  population  of  butterflies 

hovers    over    the    roaring    sea-green    torrents. 

Nowhere  can  the  sun  of  Switzerland  smile  more 

brightly  than  in  the  Oberland  after  a  week  of 

tears. 

For   all  its   damp   and  treacherous   climate, 

therefore,  Interlaken  is  never  likely  to  want  for 

(  visitors.     It  is  Europe's  favourite  window  on 

,  the  Alps.     From   beneath   the  walnut-trees  of 

,  the  Hoheweg  all  eyes  are  upturned  towards  the 

''  Jungfrau  and  her  esquires,  the  Monk  and  the 

Ogre.     Mountains   are  what   people  come  here 

i  for,  mountains  what  they  talk  about.     Dinner 

at  the  hotels  is  Uable  to  violent  interruption  by 

221 


Switzerland 

the  guests'  rushing  frantically  to  the  windows  to 
witness  the  far-famed  alpenglilh ;  having  seen 
which,  they  pick  up  their  overturned  chairs, 
remove  the  traces  of  the  soup  spilt  on  their 
garments,  and  resume  their  meal,  purring  with 
satisfaction  the  while.  These  enthusiasts  never ^f^^" 
depart  without  buying  one  of  those  artfully 
contrived  views  on  to  which  the  light  may  be 
reflected  through  red  paper  so  as  to  produce 
a  tolerable  resemblance  to  the  alpengluh.  The 
coquettish  little  shops  of  Interlaken  abound  in 
rubbish  of  this  sort ;  in  little  wooden  bears,  in 
carved  models  and  toys  of  all  descriptions,  and 
in  alpenstocks  on  which  the  tourist  may  have 
painted  or  carved  the  names  of  all  the  mountains 
he  has  climbed — in  the  funicular  railways.  Ex- 
cept these  shops  and  its  long  fagade  of  preten- 
tious hotels,  Interlaken  has  nothing  to  show.  It 
is  built  almost  entirely  of  wood  ;  but  its  houses 
can  withstand  the  violence  of  the  tempest  and 
the  snowstorm,  and  in  the  suburb  of  Unterseen 
you  may  see  cottages  brown  with  age.  Behind 
them  foams  the  Aar,  connecting  the  lakes  of 
Thun  and  Brienz  on  each  side  of  the  town.  They 
were  continuous  till  the  plain  between  them  on 
which  Interlaken  stands  was  formed  by  the 
deposits  of  the  Liitschine.  The  name  of  the 
place  was  first  borne  by  an  abbey  of  Austin 
canons  founded  about  1130  under  the  protec- 
tion of  the  lords  of  Eschenbach,  who  also  owned 

222 


The  Bernese  Oberland 

,the  village  of  Unterseen.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
fourteenth  century  these  domains  came  into 
the  possession  of  the  Hapsburgs,  who  in  1386 
■were  forced  to  surrender  them  to  Berne.  In  1528 
the  abbey  was  secularised,  and  the  greedy  re- 
public secured  all  its  lands,  including  Brienz, 
Grindelwald,  and  Lauterbrunnen.  The  monas- 
tic buildings,  a  good  deal  restored  and  pulled 
.about,  still  stand  near  the  eastern  railway 
.station,  and  accommodate  Catholic,  Lutheran, 
and  Anglican  worshippers,  according  to  the 
tolerant  practice  of  German-speaking  states. 

From  the  walls  of  the  abbey  in  front  of  the 

,  main  street  and  its  hotels  stretches  that  level 

.^reen  meadow,  which  still  imparts  so  delightfully 

rustic  an  air  to  this  swarming  tourist  resort. 

,  There  the  cows  can  still  wade  knee-deep  through 

:he  lush  herbage  and  mingle  the  tinkle  of  their 

1 ,3ells  with  the  strains  of  the  Viennese  orchestras 

,.n  the  gardens  of  the  hotels.     The  gardens  them- 

I  selves  are  often  things  of  beauty,  planted  with 

.vallflowers   and   pansies,    campion   and   phlox. 

[n  the  morning  there  is  a  dewy  freshness  about 

[nterlaken  such  as  I  have  fancied  must  have 

I 

!  :lung  to  our  old  English  spas,  like  Epsom  and 
Tunbridge  Wells,  when  people  of  quality  used 

,  ;o  camp  by  them  in  tents. 

r  Even  the  lazy  man  who  has  no  wish  to  climb 
nountains  may  amuse  himself  here.  He  can 
.aunter  across  to  the  wooded  Rugen  and  watch 

223 


Switzerland  i 


attrac 


I 


for  a' 

ffet,  ■ 

tlrouj 

sentn 

wlien 

very 

Eflglis 

the  to 

curra 

horse 


the  squirrels  playing  hide-and-seek  with  the 
checkered  sunbeams.  Then,  refreshed  with  milk 
from  a  local  cow  or  good  Bavarian  beer,  he 
may  climb  up  to  the  ruined  tower  of  Unspunnen, 
which  is  supposed  to  have  been  the  home  of 
Manfred.  Byron  in  his  Journal  does  not  mention 
this  castle  ;  but  his  account  of  his  Oberland 
visit,  though  vivid,  is  meagre,  and  might  have 
been  written  on  a  telegraph  form. 

"  Left  Thoun,"  he  says,  under  date  22nd  Sep- 
tember 1816,  "  in  a  boat  which  carried  us  the 
length  of  the  lake  in  three  hours.  The  lake  small ; 
but  the  banks  fine.  Rocks  down  to  the  water's 
edge.  Landed  at  Newhause ;  passed  Inter- 
lachen  ;  entered  upon  a  range  of  scenes  beyond 
all  description  or  previous  conception.  Passed 
a  rock — inscription — two  brothers — one  mur- 
dered the  other  ;  just  the  place  for  it.  After  a 
variety  of  windings  came  to  an  enormous  rock. 
Arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  (the  Jung- 
frau,  that  is,  the  Maiden) ;  glaciers ;  torrents ;  one  1% 
of  these  torrents  nine  hundred  feet  in  height 
of  visible  descent.  Lodged  at  the  curate's.  Set  i  ™' 
out  to  see  the  valley;  heard  an  avalanche  fall  ™^^' 
like  thunder  ;  glaciers  enormous  ;  storm  came 
on  ;  thunder,  lightning,  hail — all  in  perfection, 
and  beautiful.  I  was  on  horseback ;  guide  ■% 
wanted  to  carry  my  cane.  I  was  going  to  give  it  'j'"  P 
to  him  when  I  recollected  that  it  was  a  sword-- y^"^! 
stick,  and  I  thought  the  lightning   might  be  '^^fal 

224 


which 
It  is: 
betwe 
dredi 
here( 
hi 
iayh 
ffiuri 


The  Bernese  Oberland 

attracted  towards  him  ;  kept  it  myself  ;  a  good 
deal  encumbered  with  it,  as  it  was  too  heavy 
for  a  whip,  and  the  horse  was  stupid  and  stood 
still  with  every  other  peal.  Got  in,  not  very 
wet,  the  cloak  being  stanch.  Hobhouse  wet 
through.  Hobhouse  took  refuge  in  a  cottage ; 
sent  man,  umbrella,  and  cloak  (from  the  curate's 
when  I  arrived)  after  him.  Swiss  curate's  house 
very  good  indeed — much  better  than  most 
English  vicarages.  It  is  immediately  opposite 
the  torrent  I  spoke  of.  The  torrent  is  in  shape 
curving  over  the  rock,  like  the  tail  of  a  white 
horse  streaming  in  the  wind,  such  as  it  might  be 
conceived  would  be  that  of  the  '  pale  horse  '  on 
which  Death  is  mounted  in  the  Apocalypse. 
It  is  neither  mist  nor  water,  but  a  something 
between  both ;  its  immense  height  (nine  hun- 
dred feet)  gives  it  a  wave  or  curve,  a  spreading 
here  or  condensation  there,  wonderful  and  in- 
describable. I  think  upon  the  whole  that  this 
day  has  been  better  than  any  of  this  present 
excursion." 

Most  people  who  have  walked  up  the  vaUey 
of  Lauterbrunnen  wiU  share  the  poet's  pleasant 
memories.  Down  the  fir-clad  cliff  to  your 
right  trickle  the  streams  which  baptise  the 
valley,  whispering  the  secrets  of  the  upper  air ; 
to  your  left  brawls  the  Liitschine,  separating 
you  from  pastures  spangled  with  dandelions. 
Far  ahead  the  clouds  veil  the  Jungfrau  and  then 
p  225 


Switzerland 


withdraw  a  pace,  revealing  the  whiteness  of  her 
brow.  The  Staubbach — the  pale  horse's  tail- 
waves  in  the  wind  and  casts  at  times  long 
shadows  on  the  mountain  wall.  You  may  push 
on  past  the  village  up  the  wild  gorge  of  the 
Trummelbach,  to  the  very  hem  of  the  Virgin's 
robe,  and  count  the  rainbows  ever  changing 
in  the  triple  falls  ;  or  climb  the  steep  path  to 
Miirren,  that  you  may  stare  the  mountains  boldly 
in  the  face.  Perhaps  you  will  be  lucky  enough 
to  see  a  great  rainbow  overarching  the  Virgin 
Queen,  as  the  halo  in  some  bright  Byzantine 
painting  crowns  a  saint;  and  you  should  still 
be  fit  for  the  long  walk  down  the  valley  to 
Interlaken,  once  beguiled  for  me  by  the  chance 
companionship  of  a  party  of  jolly  Russian 
students  who  sang  the  ^'Marseillaise"  as  they 
strode  along. 

To  Grindelwald  most  people  ascend  now  by 
rail,  going  by  the  Wengern  Alp  and  Little 
Scheidegg  and  returning  by  Burglauenen  and 
the  valley  of  the  Black  Liitschine.  That  you  J I 
will  much  appreciate  the  sublimity  of  the  scene, 
travelling  this  way  in  August  or  September,  I 
very  much  doubt.  The  little  trains  are  crowded 
to  the  point  of  suffocation,  chiefly,  as  it  seems 
to  me,  with  fat  Germans  and  their  red-faced 
stertorous  wives,  who  feed  each  other  with 
sausage  and  always  possess  themselves  of  the 
window-seats.     Instead  of  the  snowy  dome  of 

226 


I 


>    «   •       > 


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a. 


I 


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ton's 
upwa 
\h{ 
jour 
Barro 
ih 
miles 
time 
from 
of  til 

ambi 

Littli 

tread 

But 

Attl 

prese 

Juee 

nng 

h 

awari 
only 
Difice 
Dc 
mind 
pass 
attl 
Tliis 
tya: 


'0 


The  Bernese  Oberland 

the  Jungfrau,  the  smooth,  rosy  dome  of  a  Teu- 
ton's bald  head  is  generally  the  limit  of  your 
upward  vision.  Alight,  therefore,  at  the 
Wengern  Alp  station  and  for  a  moment  drink 
your  fill  of  Alpine  air  and  Alpine  beauty.  The 
narrow  black  trench  beneath  you  is  the  valley 
of  Lanterbrunnen.  Opposite  you,  perhaps  two 
miles  as  the  crow  flies,  is  the  Jungfrau.  From 
time  to  time  blocks  of  ice  detach  themselves 
from  the  lower  glaciers  and  fall  with  the  sound 
of  thunder  into  the  Trumletenthal  below.  Our 
ambition  enkindled,  we  push  still  higher,  to  the 
Little  Scheidegg  where  we  beard  the  ogre  by 
treading  on  the  very  skirt  of  his  white  robe. 
But  we  have  no  reason  to  boast  our  temerity. 
At  this  very  point  begins  the  railway  which  will 
presently  carry  you  to  the  very  summit  of  the 
Oueen  of  the  Oberland  herself.  Thus  with  a 
ring  of  fire  and  iron  man  has  wedded  the  fair 
Jungfrau,  to  whom  such  a  judge  as  W.  M.  Conway 
awards  the  palm  among  the  Central  Alps,  her 
only  rival  being  not  a  mountain  but  the  mag- 
nificent Aletsch  glacier,  far  behind. 

Down  through  the  withered  woods  that  re- 
minded the  blighted  Byron  of  his  family,  you 
pass  to  Grindelwald,  not  a  very  beautiful  spot, 
at  the  foot  of  the  Eiger  and  the  Wetterhom. 
This  verdant,  chalet-strewn  basin  is  inhabited 
by  a  race  of  gruff,  money-grabbing,  church-going 
hinds,  and  is  infested  in  summer  by  Church  Con- 

227 


Switzerland  | 


gresses.  It  is  a  flourishing  winter  resort,  also, 
and,  as  most  people  know,  is  much  less  cold  than 
Interlaken  lower  down.  For  all  that,  I  am  not 
much  in  love  with  Grindelwald,  and  like  it  less 
than  any  spot  in  the  Oberland.  After  a  visit 
to  the  nearest  glacier,  the  day-tripper  generally 
returns  to  the  station  and  by  dint  of  severe 
fighting  secures  a  place  in  the  train  to  Interlaken. 
One  summer  I  took  a  bicycle  to  the  Oberland, 
and  have  often  thought  that  the  rest  it  then 
enjoyed  was  largely  responsible  for  its  remark- 
able longevity.  I  used  to  take  it  with  me  in  the 
train,  but  the  rain  always  prevented  me  from 
returning  astride  it,  as  I  had  intended.  However, 
I  rode  upon  it  right  round  the  Lake  of  Thun — an 
easy  afternoon  excursion.  This  lake  is  hardly 
as  beautiful  as  the  Vierwaldstattersee,  nor  has 
it  any  particular  historical  or  legendary  interest ; 
but  from  its  banks  and  its  surface  you  certainly 
get  unrivalled  views  of  the  Alpine  pageant. 
A  light  mist  hid  the  base  of  the  mountains  across 
the  bright  green  water  from  my  gaze ;  at  what 
seemed  an  infinite  distance  the  peaks  glistened 
in  the  pale  sunlight,  and  I  could  have  fancied 
that  I  beheld  the  bulwarks  of  some  far  aerial 
world.  A  huge  bird  flew  out  and  remained 
poised  for  five  or  six  minutes  motionless  above 
the  water ;  then  he  seemed  to  fly  straight  into 
the  sun — as  they  say  the  dying  eagles  do.  I 
thought  this  was,  in  fact,  an  eagle,  but  I  am  told 

228 


The  Bernese  Oberland 

that  this  bird  has  almost  disappeared  from  the 
Alps. 

There,  at  the  north  end  of  the  lake,  is  the  gate- 
way of  the  Oberland.     It  is  still  dominated  by 
I  the  castle  of  the  Counts  of  Kiburg,  who,  as  we 
know,  mortgaged  the  town  to  Berne,  for  no  very 
.creditable  reason.     This  erstwhile  stronghold  is 
of  the  usual  Burgundian  type,  and  rises  nowa- 
days above  a  wilderness  of  greenery.     Part  of  it 
iis  a  prison,  the  rest  a  museum  full  of  banners 
won  at  Sempach  and  Morat  and  less  honourable 
trophies.     There    is,    for    instance,    a    curious 
collection  of  hangman's  cords,  each  of  which 
'has  choked  the  life  out  of  a  man.     This  is  a 
'  heritage    of   the    bad    old    days ;  they   seldom 
I  strangle  men  in  Switzerland  now,  and  the  record 
for  halters  has  long  been  held  by  the  Anglo-Saxon 
1  countries,  with  Russia  a  good  second. 

Thun  has  a  stirring,  even  a  poetical  past,  but 
the  old  parts  of  the  town  tend  to  dinginess  and 
elsewhere  the  builder  has  been  too  aggressively 
at  work.  The  favour  of  strangers  does  not  mean 
:much  to  Thun,  for  it  boasts  a  brisk  trade  and 
:  some  manufactures.  It  is,  besides,  the  seat  of 
the  federal  military  academy ;  and  if  Swiss 
cadets  are  not  as  aristocratic  and  opulent  as 
the  young  gentlemen  of  Sandhurst,  that  they 
have  in  so  commercial  a  country  adopted  so 
unremunerative  a  profession  shows  that  they 
must  have  some  money  to  spend. 

229 


Switzerland 

From  the  south-west  shore  of  the  lake  the 
prospect  is  less  splendid,  but  the  way  is  pleasant, 
through  gardens,  plantations,  and  pretty  villages. 
Near  Spiez  you  pass  the  chateau  of  the  once- 
powerful  Erlachs  of  Berne.  At  Leissigen,  near 
my  journey's  end,  a  surprise  awaited  me.  Call- 
ing for  a  drink  at  a  tiny  rustic  inn,  I  was  served  (||t 
by  a  trim  waitress  whose  auburn  hair  and  fresh 
complexion  inspired  me  at  a  venture  to  address 
her  in  English.  My  suspicion  was  correct,  and 
she  answered  in  the  unmistakable  accents  of  a 
countrywoman.  I  remarked  on  the  pleasant 
nature  of  the  surprise  in  such  an  out-of-the-way 
spot.  "  Yes,"  she  replied  rather  guardedly, 
"  I  don't  suppose  you  expected  to  be  served  by 
an  English  girl  here."  She  then  asked  me 
abruptly  if  I  knew  the  Trocadero  in  London. 
Learning  that  I  did,  she  told  me  that  she  had 
served  behind  the  bar  there  for  some  time. 
"  Then  what  on  earth  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 
in  my  curiosity  I  rudely  blurted  out.  She 
smiled  mysteriously,  answered  that  she  liked 
the  place,  and  disappeared  into  an  inner  room, 
obviously  unwilling  to  continue  the  conversa- 
tion. There  may  have  been  no  romance  about 
the  explanation,  but  I  confess  I  should  have 
liked  to  know  how  that  typical  West  End  bar- 
maid came  to  find  herself  drawing  beer  for  Swiss 
cowherds  and  boatmen  in  a  village  in  the  Ober- 

land. 

230 


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c 

0) 

(Q 
0) 

m 


(0 


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3 


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I 


The   Bernese  Oberland 

The  Beatenberg  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Thunersee  recalls,  on  the  contrary,  a  disappoint- 
ment. We  went  out  one  hot  morning,  my  sister 
and  I,  to  visit  the  cave  of  St  Beatus,  whose  story 
I  may  as  well  relate  in  the  terms  in  which  I  first 
read  it  in  Murray's  Guide  : 

"  St  Beatus,  according  to  tradition,  was  a  native 
of  Britain,  who  coming  from  Lucerne  converted 
the  inhabitants  of  this  part  of  Helvetia  to 
Christianity  in  the  first  century  a.d.  Being 
minded  to  take  up  his  residence  on  the  shore 
of  the  lake,  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  a  grotto,  well 
suited  to  a  hermit,  but  at  the  time  occupied  by 
a  dragon.  The  monster,  however,  was  easily 
ejected,  simply  by  hearing  a  notice  to  quit  ad- 
dressed to  him  by  St  Beatus.  The  anchorite  was 
in  the  habit  of  crossing  the  lake  on  his  cloak, 
which  when  spread  on  the  water  served  instead 
of  a  boat.  The  historical  St  Beatus  was  an 
Irish  missionary  who  in  the  5th  century  con- 
verted the  dwellers  round  the  Lake  of  Lucerne  ; 
the  dragon  incident  comes  from  the  history  of 
St  Beatus  of  Vendome,  whose  history  was 
arbitrarily  blended  with  that  of  the  Swiss  St 
Beatus  in  the  i6th  century  by  the  reformer 
Agricola." 

Up  the  steep  face  of  the  mountain  we  toiled 
to  pay  our  devotions  at  the  shrine  of  the  wonder- 
working hermit,  through  magnificent  woods 
which  somehow  afforded  no  shade.     It  seemed 

231 


Switzerland 

a  long  way  to  the  cave,  and  we  began  to  wonder 
whether  we  really  wanted  to  go  there.  At  this 
moment  a  signboard  greeted  us  with  the  in- 
spiring legend  :  "  Hotel  Kleinschwein — St 
Beatenberg  —  Englisch  Gingerbier."  English 
ginger  beer  !  at  such  a  moment  the  appeal  was 
irresistible.  We  already  felt  it  foaming  round 
our  lips.  Panting  like  steam  engines,  puffing 
and  breathing  hard,  we  clambered  on,  struggling 
up  that  slope  with  frantic  energy.  It  is  a  fairly 
steep  ascent  at  any  time,  as  those  who  have 
ascended  in  the  rack-and-pinion  railway  can 
judge  ;  under  such  torrid  conditions  the  climb 
was  a  feat  of  endurance  of  which  we  are  to  this 
day  proud.  At  last,  faint  with  thirst  and  ex- 
haustion, we  fell  over  the  crest,  and  staggering 
down  the  long  street  of  St  Beatenberg,  collapsed 
into  the  basket-chairs  of  the  hospitable  Hotel 
Kleinschwein.  "  You  have  here  English  ginger 
beer  ?  "  I  inquired  nervously.  "  Certainly, 
sir."  My  sister  and  I  exchanged  glances  of 
delight.  "  Two  bottles  immediately."  We 
were  glad  the  girl  took  so  long  to  fetch  them, 
that  we  might  gloat  over  the  effervescent  joy 
in  prospect.  The  bottles  came — they  were  un- 
corked— they  fizzed — they  foamed — we  raised 
the  glasses  to  our  lips — we  put  them  down 
again — the  ginger  beer  was  unsweetened  ! 

The  poignant  disappointment  of  that  moment 
lingers  yet.     On  the  whole  continent  of  Europe, 

232 


The   Bernese  Oberland 

English  ginger  beer  can  be  obtained  at  only  one 
spot,  and  there  it  is  unsweetened. 

I  have  never  allowed  this  painful  experience 
*to  embitter  my  memories  of  St  Beatenberg, 
through  which,  in  search  of  less  exotic  refresh- 
ment, we  presently  proceeded.  It  is  simply 
a  row  of  hotels  and  chalets  about  two  and  a  half 
miles  long,  built  on  a  broad  shelf  above  the  lake, 
in  full  view  of  all  the  monarchs  of  the  Oberland. 
It  is  a  paradise  of  birds  and  flowers,  and  seems 
perpetually  bathed  in  sunshine.  Its  glories 
have  been  chanted  enthusiastically  by  Canon 
Rawnsley,  who  stayed  there  during  "  flower- 
time  "  for  a  longer  time  perhaps  than  I  should 
care  to  do.  The  isolation  of  this  high  ledge — 
its  tedious  elongation — would  tire  the  patience 
of  restless  folk  in  a  very  few  days  ;  but  in  winter 
the  crisp  cold  stings  all  your  limbs  into  move- 
ment and  you  ask  for  nothing  better  than  these 
steep  slopes  and  slippery  paths. 

The  country  behind  the  Niesen,  forming  the 
western  part  of  the  Oberland,  has  been  opened 
up  to  tourists  only  of  comparatively  recent 
years.  It  is  not  very  long  since  the  railway 
was  extended  along  the  Simmenthal,  past 
Zweisimmen  and  Gessenay  into  the  Gruyere 
valley  and  the  Lake  of  Geneva.  The  valley  of 
Adelboden  is  described  in  Murray's  Guide  for 
1891  as  little  frequented.  Nowadays  it  is  one 
3f  the  most  popular  winter  resorts  in  Switzer- 

233 


■^\ 


Switzerland 

land.  It  owes  its  success  to  its  sheltered  situa- 
tion opposite  the  Wildstrubel  and  its  exceptional 
amount  of  sunshine.  Here  it  is  quite  possible 
to  walk  about  in  summer  rig  in  the  depth  of 
winter,  four  thousand  five  hundred  feet  above 
the  sea.  The  village  lies  in  a  valley  opening 
off  the  Kanderthal,  up  which  you  go,  past  the 
resplendent  Bliimlisalp,  to  the  Gemmi  Pass. 
This,  Mr  Coolidge  has  ascertained,  is  first 
spoken  of  in  1252  under  the  Romance  name  of 
**  Curmilz  "  or  "  Curmyz."  "  As  early  as  1544 
we  have  a  most  thrilling  account  of  Sebastian 
Miinster  the  geographer,  of  his  traverse  of  the 
pass,  and  of  the  horrors  of  the  bad  path  from 
Leukerbad  to  the  pass.  Later  we  read  that  by 
this  bad  track  a  horse  could  only  carry  half  a 
proper  load,  while  every  cow  on  its  way  to  the 
pastures  required  a  man  to  itself."  For  these 
reasons  the  name  was  supposed  in  the  dark  ages 
of  philology  to  be  derived  from  the  Latin  word 
for  groans.  The  pass  yields  in  dreariness  only 
to  the  Grimsel.  The  path  constructed  in  the 
eighteenth  century  by  Tyrolese  labourers  is  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  in  Switzerland.  It  is 
carved  like  a  winding  stair  in  the  face  of  the 
rock,  and  may  not  be  descended  on  horseback. 
Near  the  spot  where  Madame  d'Arlincourt  was 
killed,  falling  from  a  mule,  in  1864,  are  the 
remains  of  a  hut  to  which  a  hermit  used  to 
approach  by  swarming  up  a  pole. 

234 


The  Bernese  Oberland 

An  hour  and  a  half's  descent  from  the  summit 
of  the  pass  brings  you  to  that  queer  place, 
Leukerbad  or  Loueche-les-Bains,  which  is  a 
long  way  off  the  town  of  Leuk  in  the  Rhone 
valley.  It  is  a  very  old  spa  which  owes  a  good 
deal  to  Cardinal  Schinner,  the  bishop  of  Sion. 
The  baths,  which  are  of  the  warm  fiat-iron 
variety,  are  still  a  good  deal  frequented,  and  are 
conducted  very  much  on  the  lines  of  those  which 
Coryat  and  Montaigne  saw  at  Baden  in  Aargau. 
You  are  admitted  (if  merely  a  spectator)  to  a 
gallery,  and  on  looking  down  behold  two  or 
three  dozen  heads  emerging  from  the  water, 
on  which  are  floating  wooden  tables  bearing 
books,  coffee,  and  refreshments  of  all  sorts. 
These  extraordinary  beings  are  clad  in  thick 
woollen  robes  and  mufflers,  which  give  them  the 
appearance  of  dancing  dervishes,  or  dangerous 
lunatics.  Upon  your  appearance,  a  collecting- 
box  is  reached  up  to  you  at  the  end  of  a  pole, 
while  the  bathers  howl,  "  Pour  les  pauvres."  If 
you  do  not  respond  to  this  appeal,  you  will  find 
water  squirted  over  you  with  deadly  force  and 
precision  by  the  dexterous  bathers.  They  are 
of  all  sorts — fat,  bald-headed  fathers  of  families, 
nice  young  ladies,  priests,  officers,  hale  and 
hearty  peasants,  battered  roues ;  but  they  all 
seem  to  be  enjoying  themselves  and  to  take  very 
kindly  to  an  aquatic  existence.  "It  is  not  a 
little  amusing,"  intelhgently  remarks  an  eye- 

235 


Switzerland 

witness,  "  to  see  people  sipping  their  breakfasts 
[possibly  eating  them,  too  ?]  or  reading  up  to 
their  chins  in  water — in  one  corner  a  party  at 
chess,  in  another  an  apparently  interesting  tete- 
a-tete  ;  while  a  solitary  sitter  may  be  seen  re- 
viving in  the  hot  water  a  nosegay  of  withered 
flowers.  The  temperature  of  the  bath  is  pre- 
served by  a  constant  supply  of  hot  water, 
which  the  patients  drink  at  times." 

The  Lake  of  Brienz,  on  the  other  side  of 
Interlaken,  sombre  in  its  setting  of  dark  wooded 
mountains,  is  less  picturesque  than  the 
Thunersee.  If  a  thunderstorm  is  brewing,  its 
neighbourhood  infects  one  with  a  profound 
melancholy.  But  on  a  clear  day  it  is  a  jaunt 
of  unalloyed  pleasure  to  the  Giessbach  falls — 
seven  cascades  leaping  down  in  succession  from 
the  height  of  the  mountain,  over  smooth  green 
turfy  terraces,  overshadowed  by  a  forest  of  firs. 
By  night  these  falls  are  illuminated.  The  effect, 
though  so  artificially  produced,  is  of  magical 
beauty,  almost  equal  to  that  of  the  noonday 
rainbows. 

It  was  on  the  path  leading  from  the  water's 
edge  that  I  first  saw  a  marmot.  He  was  begging 
for  a  blind  man.  He  looked  like  a  great  fat 
rat,  with  his  pathetic  pleading  eyes,  his  quiver- 
ing muzzle,  and  fierce  whiskers.  He  begged 
most  prettily  with  his  fore-paws,  and  ate  nuts 
as  daintily  as  a  squirrel.     I  thought  him  a  most 

236 


>         i»     >         )     4     4  It 


The  Bernese  Oberland 

lovable  beast  —  as  rodents  usually  are.  Mar- 
mots are  more  often  heard  than  seen  in  a  wild 
state,  and  announce  the  approach  of  a  human 
by  a  loud,  shrill  whistle.  '^They  live,"  says 
'Mr  Howard  V.  Knox,  "in  colonies  of  varying 
numbers,  but,  in  summer  at  least,  each  burrow 
is  inhabited  by  a  single  family.  Sometimes,  but 
not  always,  the  same  burrow  is  used  as  a  summer 
and  a  winter  home.  The  change  from  summer 
to  winter  quarters,  wherever  it  takes  place, 
involves  a  descent  to  a  lower  level.  The 
animals  prepare  for  winter  by  carrying  into  their 
sleeping-room  a  quantity  of  dry  grass,  with 
which  the  floor  is  entirely  covered,  so  as  to 
provide  a  comfortable  couch  for  the  two  or  three 
families  that  usually  club  together  at  this  season. 
About  the  middle  of  October  the  burrow  is 
closed  up  from  within  by  a  closely  packed  wad, 
composed  chiefly  of  hay,  which,  however,  is 
ij  placed  not  at  the  entrance  of  the  burrow,  but  at 
a  distance  of  one  or  two  feet  therefrom.  In  the 
snug  home  thus  carefully  prepared  the  whole 
party,  numbering  from  five  to  fifteen  individuals, 
sleep  away  the  long  winter  months,  unless  they 
are  dug  out  by  some  ruthless  hunter." 

The  ruthless  hunter  may  be  compared  to  the 
cads  who  dig  foxes  out  of  their  earths  and  wash 
their  children's  faces  with  their  blood. 

According  to  Victor  Tissot,  the  marmots  never 
stir  out  of  their  burrows  till  they  have  satisfied 

237 


Switzerland 

themselves  that  no  danger  is  in  sight.  The 
command  of  the  party  is  entrusted,  as  with  the 
chamois,  to  an  old  female,  and  while  the  young 
ones  frisk  and  crop  the  Alpine  flowers,  their 
elders  keep  watch.  Mrs  Margaret  Vaughan, 
daughter  of  John  Addington  Symonds,  captured 
a  marmot  alive  after  a  brisk  engagement,  of 
which  she  gives  a  most  spirited  account.  Having 
driven  him  into  a  ledge,  she  forced  him  to  take 
refuge  in  a  bag  hastily  improvised  out  of  a 
petticoat  and  hairpins.  Then  at  midday, 
8th  July  1889,  "  two  heated  damsels  were  to  be 
seen  toiling  along  the  Davos-Dorfli  road,  one 
bearing  slung  over  her  shoulder,  a  mysterious 
striped  bag,  the  contents  of  which  wriggled 
furiously  and  weighed  twelve  Swiss  pounds." 

Brienz,  at  the  east  end  of  the  lake,  is  the 
back  door  of  the  Oberland,  and  thence  you 
ascend  through  Meiringen  over  the  Brunig  pass 
to  Lucerne.  Meiringen  is  beautifully  situated 
and  has  been  burnt  down  more  often  than  any 
town  in  America.  Whether  the  people  cook 
their  Christmas  dinners  in  a  general  conflagra- 
tion, as  the  ancient  Chinese  roasted  their  pork, 
or  whether  the  men  smoke  their  pipes  in  bed, 
I  do  not  know,  but  the  place  is  the  despair  of 
the  insurance  companies.  Yet  close  at  hand 
there  is  a  volume  of  water  great  enough  to 
extinguish  all  the  fires  in  Hades.  The  Aar  cuts 
its  way  through  a  mountain,  forming  a  defile, 

238 


The  Bernese  Oberland 

I  a  mile  and  a  quarter  long.  This  gorge  might 
.well  be  taken  for  the  approach  to  the  hell 
dreamed  of  by  the  envenomed  Florentine.  The 
walls  of  rock  rise  sheer  up  from  the  water, 
overarching  here,  receding  there  ;  they  bulge 
terrifically  above  your  head  as  you  clamber  down 
the  iron  gallery  clamped  to  their  sides  ;  they 
retreat  and  advance,  engulfing  you  in  a  great 
witches'  cauldron,  a  cavern  green  and  dark  well 
suited  to  be  a  dragon's  lair  ;  then  far  above  you 
a  ray  of  sunlight  penetrates  the  chasm,  and 
makes  magic  play  with  the  damp  white  mist  sent 
up  from  the  torrent  hissing  and  frothing  far 
below. 

Near  at  hand  there  are  other  streams  which 
tumble  down  into  the  valley  over  the  grand 
Reichenbach  falls.  There  is  the  Alpbach  cas- 
cade, too,  alike  unable  to  save  Meiringen  from 
the  burning.  The  valley  behind  is  the  Hasli- 
thal,  leading  to  the  Grimsel.  It  is  inhabited  by 
a  hardy  handsome  race,  whose  fathers  settled  in 
the  valley  of  the  upper  Rhone.  The  women  are 
supposed  to  be  prettier,  or,  as  one  author  un- 
kindly puts  it,  "  less  plain  "  than  the  rest  of 
their  compatriots.  For  my  part,  I  think  in- 
justice is  often  done  to  the  Swiss  in  this  respect. 
There  are  plenty  of  pretty  faces  to  be  seen  in 
Switzerland — among  the  shopgirls  of  Berne  and 
Lucerne,  for  instance,  and  in  the  towns  of  the 
canton  Ticino.     In  the  St  Gotthard  express  I 

239 


I 


Switzerland 


have  met  at  wide  intervals  two  of  the  handsomest 
people  I  have  ever  seen — a  federal  officer  going 
from  Zurich  to  Andermatt,  and  a  charming  girl 
of  sixteen  or  seventeen  travelhng  from  Bellin-  j 
zona  to  Zurich.  But  the  peasantry  of  Switzer- 
land are  undoubtedly  as  plain  of  face  as  of 
speech.  They  work  too  hard.  They  eat  too 
little,  and  expose  themselves  too  much.  The 
women  are  old  at  thirty.  They  take  no  interest  i 
in  their  appearance  and  have  no  reason  to  do  so.  i 
Marriages,  as  elsewhere  on  the  Continent,  are  j 
affairs  of  convenience,  and  the  ugliest  girl  stands 
as  good  a  chance  of  a  rich  husband  as  does  a 
pretty  one.  The  cold  airs  and  Calvinism  have 
put  out  the  fires  of  passion  in  Switzerland.  No 
young  Swiss  would  think  of  running  off  with  his 
master's  wife  or  daughter — if  he  ran  away  with 
anything,  it  would  be  with  the  cash-box. 


,y: 


240  L 


•)•,•■>    t    > 


.    .J. 


Teec 
parts 
sluti 
noun 
Botfo 
access 
where 
stadt. 
Mvi 
with  I 
theK 
loun 
a  pop 
contei 
cheesf 
beaut 


b?tl 


seldoi 


Bit 
audi 


CANTON    GLARUS 

The  canton  Glarus  is  one  of  the  least  frequented 
parts  of  Switzerland.  Like  Uri  and  Valais  it  is 
shut  in  on  all  sides  but  one  by  almost  impassable 
mountains  ;  but  unlike  them,  that  one  side  is 
not  formed  by  any  famous  lake  or  river.  The  only 
access  to  the  canton  is  by  a  narrow  opening 
where  the  Linth  issues  from  the  Lake  of  Wallen- 
stadt.  Glarus  consists  of  one  large  and  beauti- 
ful valley,  the  Grossthal,  rich  in  pasture-land, 
with  the  two  tributary  glens,  the  Klein  thai  and 
the  Klon,  burrowing  right  into  the  heart  of  the 
mountains  on  either  hand.  Here  there  dwells 
a  population  of  over  thirty  thousand  souls,  who 
contentedly  manufacture  printed  muslins  and 
cheeses,  while  ecstatic  visitors  rhapsodise  over  the 
beauties  of  the  scenery,  and  the  lofty  sentiments 
it  must  awaken  in  the  dwellers  in  its  midst. 

Wallenstadt,  though  less  than  ten  miles  in 
length,  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  Alpine 
lakes.  It  lies  in  the  cradle  of  the  mountains, 
seldom  disturbed  by  the  presence  of  the  man 
from  Cook's.  Its  dark  green  waters  mirror  the 
rocky  masses  that  rise  sheer  up  from  its  margin. 
But  these  clear,  placid  waters  are  treacherous 
and  dangerous  to  navigate.     Benvenuto  Cellini 

Q  241 


> 


Switzerland 

has  left  us  an  account  of  his  exciting  passage 
across  the  lake  from  Wallenstadt  to  Weesen,  in 
the  course  of  a  journey  that  he  undertook  with 
two  apprentices  from  Rome  to  Paris. 

"  When  I  saw  the  boats  on  the  lake  I  was 
terrified,"  he  naively  owns,  "  because  the  said 
boats  are  of  fir  wood,  not  very  large  and  not 
very  substantial,  and  are  not  closely  fitted  to- 
gether nor  even  pitched ;  and  if  I  had  not  seen 
four  German  noblemen  with  their  four  horses 
embarking  in  a  similar  one,  I  would  never  have 
embarked  in  mine  ;  rather  would  I  much  sooner 
have  turned  back  again  :  but  I  thought  to  my- 
self according  to  the  folly  I  saw  them  committing, 
that  these  German  waters  would  not  drown  folks 
as  do  ours  in  Italy  !  Those  two  young  men  of 
mine,  however,  said  to  me,  '  Benvenuto  !  It  is 
a  dangerous  thing  to  embark  along  with  four 
horses/  And  I  replied  to  them :  '  Don't  you 
notice,  cowards,  that  those  four  noblemen  have 
embarked  before  us,  and  are  going  on  their  way 
laughing  ?  If  this  were  wine  as  it  actually  is 
water,  I  would  say  that  they  were  going  cheer- 
fully to  drown  therein '  ;  .  .  .  This  lake  was 
fifteen  miles  in  length  and  about  three  in  width  ; 
on  the  one  side  was  a  very  high  and  cavernous 
mountain,  on  the  other  it  was  flat  and  grassy,  i 
When  we  had  gone  about  four  miles  on  it  the 
said  lake  began  to  be  stormy,  so  that  those  men 
who  were  rowing  begged  us  that  we  would  help 

242 


Canton  Glarus 

them  to  row ;  so  we  did  for  a  while.  I  made 
signs  to  them  that  they  should  run  us  to  that 
shore  opposite ;  they  said  that  it  was  not 
possible  for  there  was  not  sufficient  water  there 
to  float  the  boat,  and  that  there  are  certain 
shallows  upon  which  the  boat  would  immediately 
go  to  pieces  and  we  should  all  drown.  .  .  .  When 
I  saw  them  thus  dismayed,  having  an  intelligent 
horse,  I  arranged  the  bridle  upon  his  neck  and 
took  one  end  of  the  halter  in  my  left  hand.  The 
horse  .  .  .  seemed  to  perceive  what  I  wanted  to 
do,  for,  turning  his  head  towards  the  fresh  grass, 
I  wanted  him  swimming  to  draw  me  also  with 
him.  At  this  moment  there  arose  so  great  a 
wave  from  the  lake  that  it  broke  over  the  boat. 
Ascanio,  crying  out,  '  Mercy,  my  father,  help 
me,'  turned  to  throw  himself  upon  me  ;  where- 
fore I  clapped  my  hand  to  my  dagger,  and  told 
them  to  do  as  I  would  show  them,  for  the  horses 
would  save  their  own  lives  so  surely  that  I  hoped 
I  should  also  escape  by  that  means  ;  but  that  if 
he  threw  himself  upon  me  I  would  kill  him.  .  .  . 
Midway  down  the  lake  we  found  a  little  track  of 
level  ground  where  we  could  rest,  and  upon  the 
level  ground  I  saw  disembarked  those  four 
German  noblemen.  The  boatmen  would  not 
allow  us  to  disembark  so  I  said  to  my  young 
men,  '  Now  is  the  time  to  make  some  proof  of 
our  quality  ;  therefore  draw  your  swords  and 
compel  him  to  set  us  on  shore.'     This  we  did 

243 


Switzerland 

with  great  difficulty.  But  when  we  were  landed 
we  must  climb  two  miles  up  that  mountain, 
more  difficult  to  scale  than  a  ladder.  I  was 
fully  armed  in  a  coat  of  mail,  with  big  boots  and 
a  fowling  piece  in  my  hand,  and  it  was  raining, 
as  God  alone  knows  how  to  send  it.  Those 
devils  of  German  noblemen,  with  their  little 
hand-led  nags,  performed  miracles,  but  our 
horses  were  not  up  to  this  business." 

One  slipped  on  the  precipitous  path,  and  falling 
down  the  mountain  side  was  killed ;  the  other,  slip- 
ping, wounded  itself  on  the  point  of  a  lance.  Had 
not  the  German  noblemen  taken  pity  on  them  and 
sent  them  help,  poor  Benvenuto  and  his  friends 
would  indeed  have  been  in  a  sad  plight.  At 
length,  however,  they  got  food  and  shelter  ;  the 
wounded  horse  was  tended,  and  Cellini  continued 
his  journey  into  France  singing  and  laughing 
with  his  apprentices,  and  in  a  strange  interval  of 
piety,  thanking  God  for  his  escape. 

But  voyagers  on  the  lake  have  not  always  been 
equally  fortunate.  They  will  still  tell  you  at 
Wallenstadt,  in  tones  of  horror,  of  the  boat,  laden 
with  wine  and  salt,  which  went  down  in  a  sudden 
storm  in  1574,  when  fifty  good  merchants  of 
Grisons  were  drowned. 

To  the  geologists  the  mountains  round  the  Lake 

of  Wallenstadt  are  a  paradise  of  wonder.     They 

are    characterised    by    extraordinary    "  folds," 

where  the  natural  strata  of  the  rocks  lie  crushed 

244 


Canton  Glarus 

and  broken  beneath  inverted  strata,  in  which 
the  older  rock  formations  He  next  the  surface  and 
the  newer  ones  are  deeply  buried.  It  is  as  if  some 
giant  had  seized  the  ancient  mountains  and  in  his 
anger  crumpled  up  their  summits  and  ground 
them  deeply  into  the  foundations.  But  to  my 
layman's  eye  the  mountains  are  but  mountains, 
and  though  Wallenstadt  is  beautiful,  the  whole 
of  the  canton  is  before  me. 

Leaving  Weesen,  the  railway  passes  through 
a  rocky  gorge  into  the  great  central  valley  of 
Glarus.  On  the  rights  Glarnisch  rears  its  snowy 
head,  glittering  in  the  clear  air  and  sunshine,  the 
most  impressive  peak  in  the  whole  canton.  Its 
summit  is  well  worth  a  visit  on  account  of  the 
huge  glacier  that  unrolls  in  plains  of  ice  between 
the  rugged  crags  and  overflows  on  to  the  smoother 
surfaces  below.  Round  the  lower  slopes  cluster 
great  masses  of  beech-trees  with  their  pink 
sheaths  and  leaves  of  delicate  green,  until,  as  they 
push  farther  up  the  mountain,  they  lose  them- 
selves in  the  shadows  of  the  conifers. 

Glarnisch  has  a  sinister  reputation  for  its 
avalanches,  which  thunder  down  a  sheer  5000 
feet,  bringing  destruction  in  their  train,  in  a  veil 
of  blinding  snow.  And  less  remarked  though 
scarcely  less  wonderful  are  the  "  snow-flags  " 
encountered  on  this  and  the  surrounding  sum- 
mits. Often  when  no  breath  of  air  is  stirring  in 
the  valley  the  wind  on  the  mountains  lifts  up  a 

245 


towl 
their 
bene; 


Switzerland  | 

great  column  of  snow  and  whirls  it  up  into  the 
air  in  great  spirals.  Sometimes  the  snow  dis- 
appears into  the  clouds,  sometimes  it  spreads 
out  like  a  pall  of  smoke,  sometimes  it  shoots 
about  like  frozen  flames,  but  always  it  is  a 
beautiful  and  weird  phenomenon. 

Nafels  is  the  first  village  at  which  we  make 
a  halt.  There  is  a  fine  old  manor-house  here  '^"^f 
built  in  the  florid  Renaissance  style,  and  trea-  ^^^ 
sured  by  the  natives  as  a  masterpiece.  But  the  "^ 
interest  of  the  spot  is  almost  entirely  historical, 
for  Nafels  played  a  part  in  the  growth  of  Glarus 
similar  to  that  of  Morgarten  in  Schwyz. 

The  name  of  Glarus  is  derived  by  Murray 
from  St  Hilary  of  Poitiers,  the  protector  of 
Fridolin,  who  converted  the  district  to  Chris-  ^  % 
tianity.  To  trace  the  process  of  derivation  will  ^' 
occupy  many  a  tedious  railway  journey.  This,  ^^^^ 
like  so  many  of  the  Swiss  cantons,  was  originally  j  "' 
dependent  on  a  religious  foundation — the  Bene 
dictine  nunnery  of  Sackingen,  on  the  Rhine.  | 
But  Austria,  the  bogey  of  Mediaeval  Europe,  I  ^¥ 
early  acquired  proprietary  rights.  In  1352,  ^^^^ 
Glarus  entered  the  Swiss  confederation,  and  in  ;  W 
1380  Austria  determined  to  strike  a  final  blow  ' '™ 
for  her  vanishing  supremacy.  Treachery  de-  Ft 
livered  Weesen  into  her  hands,  and  from  this  Aust 
point  of  vantage,  6000  Austrian  troops  were  soutl 
thrown  into  the  canton.  At  Nafels  they  made  ^lin 
their  attack.     Glarus  was  cut  off  from  her  allies.     .  itlit 

246 


on  t 
marl 
elevf 
iillai 
iai 


t 

I 


itsc 
mi 


Canton   Glarus 

But  a  band  of  600  grimly  determined  men 
held  the  surrounding  heights.  The  Austrians, 
to  whom  defeat  had  taught  no  wisdom,  brought 
their  cavalry  into  the  valley,  only  to  be  crushed 
beneath  a  well-directed  volley  of  stones  and 
boulders  showered  down  at  them  by  their  in- 
accessible foes.  Austria  now  judged  it  wise  to 
temporise,  and  in  the  following  year  agreed  to 
give  up  all  pretensions  to  her  ancient  feudal 
rights  in  return  for  a  sum  of  money  paid  down 
on  the  nail.  The  memory  of  this  victory  is 
marked  by  an  obelisk  opposite  the  church  and 
eleven  stones,  placed  at  intervals  through  the 
village.  In  the  churchyard  of  Mollis,  the  twin 
village  of  Nafels  across  the  river,  are  buried  the 
fifty-four  heroes  who  fell  in  the  great  victory. 

Past  Netstall,  that  clings  for  support  to  the 
overhanging  crags  of  the  Wiggis  ;  past  the  gorge 
of  the  terrible  Lontsch,  which  at  times  leaves 
its  channel  and  tears  over  the  countryside  with 
vindictive  fury,  and  you  come  to  Glarus,  the 
capital  of  the  canton.  You  notice  with  surprise 
that  the  little  town  is  new  and  modern,  and  if 
you  inquire  the  reason  you  will  hear  a  tale  of 
terrible  disaster. 

For  an  enemy  more  to  be  dreaded  than  the 
Austrians  or  French  is  the  "  fohn,"  the  terrible 
south-west  wind  that  sweeps  at  times  through 
the  valley.    One  day  in  May,  just  fifty  years  ago, 

it  Ht  a  fire  in  Glarus,  which  presently  consumed 

247 


i 

if 

Switzerland 

five  hundred  houses  and  property  to  the  value  of 
three  hundred  thousand  pounds.  The  mountain 
snows  glowed  with  the  reflection  of  this  roaring 
sea  of  fire,  and  the  dreadful  crimson  alpengUch  was 
visible  as  far  away  as  the  Black  Forest.  But  help 
and  supplies  were  not  denied  to  Glarus  in  this 
terrible  hour.  The  cantons,  French  and  German, 
remembered  their  fraternal  duties,  the  federal 
device,  "  All  for  one,  one  for  all,"  which,  as  an 
English  lady  remarked  with  commendable 
moderation,  was  "  very  nice  "  of  them. 

The  conflagration  made  a  clean  sweep  of  the 
historical  monuments  of  the  town,  among  which 
may  be  counted  the  church  wherein  Ulrich 
Zwingli  first  celebrated  mass.  The  chalice  used 
on  that  solemn  occasion  is  preserved  in  the  new 
church.  But  the  sole  interest  of  this  cantonal 
capital  for  strangers  lies  in  its  situation  at  the 
foot  of  the  Vorder  Glarnisch,  a  peak  of  beautiful 
shape,  resembling  at  a  distance  a  fountain  turned 
to  ice.  Opposite  rises  the  Wiggis  ;  in  another 
direction  the  appropriately  named  Schild  cleaves 
the  sky. 

Amid  such  sublime  scenes,  the  people  of  the 
little  town  flock  to  the  factory  and  regulate  their 
lives  by  the  horn  and  the  hooter,  much  like 
Lancashire  folk.  We  hear  the  usual  groans  that 
divorce  among  them  is  frequent,  that  wives  are 
fond  of  gaiety,  and  homes  neglected.  In  all 
probability  they  are   all  much  the  better  for 

248 


>     >       « 
■»   «     1  > 

JO       >       » 

■>    »  J   '  > 


\    \^> 


Canton  Glarus 

mingling  even  a  scant  measure  of  pleasure  and 
passion  with  their  sordid  lives.  Their  lot  is 
certainly  better  than  that  of  the  peasant  who 
will  deny  himself,  his  wretched  wife,  and  his 
children,  food,  sleep,  rest,  and  recreation  rather 
than  lose  a  minute  from  grubbing  up  potatoes 
and  feeding  swine. 

When  the  gramophone  and  the  electric  theatre 
cease  for  a  moment  to  charm  the  industrious 
townsfolk  of  Glarus,  they  make  holiday  in  the 
Klonthal,  a  romantic  valley  to  the  north  of  the 
Glarnisch.  We  seem  here  to  penetrate  into  the 
land  where  it  is  always  afternoon.  No  wind 
stirs  the  leaves,  not  a  blade  of  grass  trembles, 
there  is  never  a  ripple  on  the  surface  of  the  dark 
green  lake.  Far  down  into  its  abysses  seems  to 
penetrate  the  mighty  mountain,  mirrored  to- 
gether with  the  heavens  above  it  in  these  clear 
depths.  Here  Alps  and  sun  are  never  tired  of 
contemplating  the  reflection  of  their  own  beauty. 
Nature  never  devised  a  more  beautiful  looking- 
glass  than  this  little  lake  in  the  heart  of  Glarus. 
Suvorov,  by  the  way,  is  said  to  have  sunk  his 
war  chest  in  it  when  routed  by  the  French. 
You  drink  a  glass  of  milk  to  the  genius  of  the 
place,  and  press  up  the  valley.  It  is  on  fine  days 
pretty  well  thronged  with  people  on  an  outing 
from  Glarus  and  with  mountaineers  about  to 
attempt  the  not  very  difficult  ascent  of  the 
Glarnisch.     In    winter   the   valley   is    deserted 

249 


Switzerland 

except  on  Sundays,  when  the  frozen  surface  of 
the  lake  draws  skaters  by  the  hundred.     The 
ice  is  of  unusual   purity,  and  so   clear  that  a 
newspaper  can  be  read  through  a  slab  a  foot 
thick.     Its  exportation  has  become  an  important 
industry.     "  Strange  and  picturesque  and  com- 
parable only  to  the  hurry  and  scurry  of  an  ant's 
nest,  is  the  scene  presented  " — says  one  who  has 
witnessed   it — "  when    hundreds    of   men    with 
saws,  picks,  poles,  ladders,  sledges,  and  horses, 
are  busily  employed  on  the  slippery  surface  of 
the  ice  in  the  midst  of  this  lonely  snowed-up 
Alpine  valley,  the   thermometer  registering  15 
to  25  degrees  below  freezing-point,  so  that  the 
workmen's  bread  freezes  hard  in  their  pockets 
and  the  wine  in  their  bottles  is  turned  into  a 
cylinder  of  ice.     Then  there  is  the  business  of 
transporting  the  ice.     In  good  winters  from  two 
to  three  hundred  waggons  are  employed  daily 
in  conveying  the  blocks  of  ice  into  the  valley. 
The  traffic  is  so  regulated  that  twice  a  day  all 
the  vehicles  go  in  single  file  from  Netstall  and 
Glarus  to  the  lake,  and  return  in  the  like  order 
unbroken.     Thus  in  the  space  of  one  hour  you 
see  the  entire  caravan  of  three  hundred  ice- 
laden  waggons  drawn  by  horses,  cows,  or  mules, 
pass  by  in  a  seemingly  interminable  procession." 
From  Glarus  the  railway  runs  up  the  valley 
of  the  Linth  to  Stachelberg,  a  pretty  watering- 
place  at  the  foot  of  the  great  mountain  mass  of 

250 


Canton  Glarus 

I  the  Todi.  Thence  you  may  travel  by  a  bridle- 
path  over   the    Klausen    Pass  into   Uri.     The 

I  boundary  lies  a  considerable  distance  short  of 
the  summit  of  the  pass,  and  for  this  reason. 
In  the  autumn  of  1092,  the  two  cantons  (as  we 
now  call  them)  fell  out  over  the  matter  of  the 
frontier.  It  was  finally  agreed  that  two  men 
should  start  running  at  cock-crow  from  Linthal 
and  Altdorf  towards  the  pass  and  that  the  point 

"'  of  their  meeting  should  be  the  boundary.  Each 
side  strove  to  gain  the  advantage  over  the  other 
by  getting  its  bird  to  crow  first.  The  Glarus 
bird  was  overfed^  and  showed  no  signs  of  waking 
though  the  sun  had  risen.  At  last,  long  after 
the  Uri  man  had  started,  he  opened  one  eye, 
lazily  flapped  his  wings,  and  crowed  languidly. 
The  Glarus  runner  was  off  like  a  shot,  seeking  by 
frantic  spurts  to  make  up  for  the  delay  of  the 
drowsy  bird.  Half  way  down  the  Frittneralp, 
he  met  his  competitor.  The  Uri  man  was,  how- 
ever, a  true  sportsman,  and  consented  to  allow 
the  loser  another  chance.  He  would  yield  as 
much  of  the  distance  he  had  covered  as  the 
other  man  could  carry  him.  With  a  mighty 
effort  the  runner  from  Linthal  bore  his  rival  up 
the  mountain  as  far  as  the  Scheidbach.  There 
he  fell  dead,  and  there  the  boundary  remains  to 
this  day.  "  Although  the  issue  was  so  tragic," 
caustically  remarks  a  Liberal  of  Glarus,  "  it  has 
not  been  without  advantage,  for  since  that  time 

251 


Switzerland 

our  people  have  learned  to  set  their  watch  at 
least  half  a  century  in  advance  of  that  of  their 
fellow-countrymen  at  Altdorf." 

Three  and  a  half  miles  above  Glarus,  at  the 
little  town  of  Schwanden,  the  river  Semft  falls 
into  the  Linth.     It  waters  the  idyllic  Kleinthal. 

Having  once  penetrated  into  this  glen,  the 
traveller  feels  himself  as  much  cut  off  from  the 
outer  world  as  in  the  happy  valley  of  Prince 
Rasselas.  There  is  little  communication  with 
the  rest  of  the  canton,  for  the  lower  part  of  the 
valley  is  narrow  and  tortuous,  with  a  rise  of 
850  feet  in  less  than  three  miles,  and  a  sudden 
bend  that  hides  the  approach  as  completely  as 
the  vanishing  door  in  the  fairy  story.  Beyond 
the  circle  of  brooding  mountains  lies  the  world 
of  steamships  and  hotels,  but  in  this  narrow 
strip  of  green  pasture-land  men  move  placidly 
about  their  business,  often  the  prey  of  a  pitiless 
nature.  Enthroned  above  the  solitude  the  eagles 
build  their  nests. 

They  cling  firmly  to  their  old  beliefs  and 
superstitions,  these  lonely  mountain  folk. 
They  have  an  interesting  demonology  of  their 
own.  Above  the  village  of  Matt  is  the  Heiden- 
loch,  a  stalactite  cavern  six  feet  high.  Here  the 
dwarfs  buried  their  treasures  in  an  iron  chest, 
and  a  black  dog  keeps  guard  over  them  day  and 
night.  It  is  said  that  in  former  days  a  white 
sheep  was  driven  once  every  year  into  the  cave, 

252 


I 


Canton  Glarus 

and  used  to  emerge  some  two  miles  farther  off 
with  a  fleece  of  deepest  red.  What  fiery  ordeal 
the  poor  beast  had  gone  through,  the  legend- 
mongers  will  only  hint  at.  The  subterranean 
passage  which  undoubtedly  exists  is  also  said 
to  have  been  used  as  a  refuge  by  Christians  in 
the  days  of  their  persecution,  though  we  are 
told  of  no  miraculous  transformation  of  their 
complexions.  Until  the  last  few  years  a  curious 
custom  was  still  kept  up.  On  the  Monday  before 
Ash  Wednesday,  the  young  men  would  go  with 
torches  to  the  Weissenberge.  A  fire  was  lighted, 
and  small  circular  pieces  of  wood  with  sharpened 
edges  made  glowing  in  the  flames.  Then  with 
rhymes,  that  seem  to  be  a  relic  of  some  old 
litany  to  the  sun-god,  they  would  hurl  their 
missiles,  like  falling  stars,  into  the  air  to  drop 
into  the  valley  below. 

But  the  Kleinthal  has  by  no  means  escaped 
the  touch  of  a  steam-driven  civilisation.  For- 
merly the  inhabitants  used  to  swarm  in  summer 
over  the  neighbouring  districts,  picking  up  the 
most  casual  livelihood  and  making  themselves 
a  nuisance.  But  to-day  tall  factory  chimneys 
stretch  up  from  amongst  broad-spreading  maple- 
trees  and  glowing  clusters  of  alpenroses.  From 
the  bowels  of  the  mountains  comes  the  hollow 
clang  of  picks  and  hammers,  indicating,  not 
some  Vulcan's  forge,  but  the  presence  of  valuable 
slate  quarries. 

253 


Switzerland 


I 


To  these  quarries  the  Httle  town  of  Elm,  lying 
at  the  upper  extremity  of  the  valley,  owes  a 
melancholy  notoriety.  It  has  always  suffered 
from  floods  and  avalanches,  but  before  1881  it 
was  to  outward  appearance  a  model  of  Arcadian 
happiness.  In  September  of  that  year  a  sudden 
shower  of  rattling  stones  warned  the  inhabitants 
that  something  was  amiss.  In  great  haste  they 
began  to  move  their  cattle  and  household  goods. 
Another  deafening  volley  crashed  down  upon 
them,  and  then  the  whole  face  of  the  rocky 
Tschingel,  undermined  by  quarrying,  fell  in. 
As  though  struck  by  an  earthquake,  the  mountain 
gaped  asunder.  Huge  boulders  split  off  and 
came  crashing  down,  enveloped  in  a  dense  cloud 
of  rocky  debris,  with  an  occasional  flash  of  fire. 
Ten  times  more  terrible  than  an  avalanche  the 
stream  of  solid  masonry  swept  on,  filling  up  the 
narrow  valley,  grinding  to  powder  everything 
that  opposed  its  progress.  The  bed  of  the  river 
was  instantly  choked  up  and  the  rising  waters 
threatened  to  engulf  whatever  of  the  village  the 
falling  mountain  had  spared.  Herds  of  cattle 
were  extirpated;  a  hundred  and  fifteen  people  lost 
their  lives  and  eight  more  were  only  saved  by  a 
whirlwind  that  lifted  them  up  bodily  and  carried 
them  to  a  place  of  safety.  An  enormous  sum 
of  money  was  at  once  subscribed  for  the  benefit 
of  the  survivors  ;  but  the  little  village  still  lies 
half  in  ruins  beneath  a  mass  of  rock  and  rubbish. 

254  -, 


Canton   Glarus 

Above  Elm,  and  overlooking  the  rushing 
itorrent  of  the  Sernft  with  its  magnificent  water- 
ffall,  rises  the  rugged  mass  of  the  Sardona, 
crowned  with  its  glittering  ice-fields.  The 
Tschingelhorner  grins  fantastically  with  its 
savage  rocky  teeth,  known  locally  as  the  Twelve 
Apostles.  Near  the  summit  is  an  extraordinary 
fissure  that  penetrates  the  mountain  to  the 
Grisons  side,  known  at  the  Martinsloch.  Its 
breadth  is  46  feet,  its  height  72  feet  on  the 
Glarus  side,  falling  to  49  feet  in  Grisons,  and 
twice  a  year  the  sunshine  streams  through  on 
to  the  church  tower  of  Elm.  Farther  to  the 
south,  great  mountain  masses  sweep  round  the 
■  Kleinthal  valley,  piling  up  crest  above  furrowed 
crest,  until  they  culminate  in  the  snowy  majesty 
of  the  graceful  but  gigantic  Hausstoch  with  its 
fine  summit  lost  in  wreaths  of  cloud. 


255 


THE  LOWLANDS  OF  SWITZERLAND 

All  Switzerland  is  not  Alpine  nor  even  mountain- 
ous. The  five  cantons  extending  along  the  left 
or  south  bank  of  the  Rhine  from  the  Bodensee  to 
Bale  belong  to  the  plain,  and  with  them  might 
be  included  parts  of  Soleure  and  St  Gall.  They 
contain  a  third  of  the  whole  population  of 
Switzerland,  and  Bale  and  Zurich,  its  most 
populous  towns.  Here  the  wealth  and  industry 
of  the  country  are  concentrated.  The  whole 
territory  is  German  in  race  and  language,  and 
accounts  for  the  predominance  of  the  Teutonic 
element  in  the  confederation. 

The  race  problem  in  Switzerland  has  been 
investigated  by  able  native  writers,  and  lately 
by  M.  Albert  Dauzat,  who  states  his  conclusion 
in  his  book,  "  La  Suisse  moderne."  He  speaks 
of  the  rapid  Germanisation  of  the  Bernese  Jura, 
and  estimates  the  immigration  of  German  Swiss 
into  the  French-speaking  cantons  at  one  hundred 
thousand  persons.  Against  these  can  be  set 
only  fifty  thousand  French  Swiss  settled  in  the 
German  or  Italian  cantons.  In  the  canton 
Neuchatel  are  whole  German-speaking  colonies 
of  recent  growth.  The  birth-rate,  too,  among 
the  Teutons  is  very  much  higher  than  among 

256 


tt    •••«        *• 


»    »  t  3      ■» 


•  »  ^  •  :• 


«      •         4 

•  «      B 

•  •    • 


(1) 

C 
3 

O 
0) 


\ 


The  Lowlands  of  Switzerland 


their  Latin  neighbours.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
French,  resisting  assimilation  themselves,  tend 
to  assimilate  and  to  absorb  these  alien  colonies. 
As  in  Belgium — that  other  battle-ground  of 
tongues — the  educated  classes,  whether  of  Latin 
or  Teutonic  origin,  prefer  to  speak  French — a 

I  tendency  encouraged  of  course  by  the  influx  of 
tourists  and  the  very  necessities  of  the  hotel- 
keeping  business.  A  movement  to  write  the 
hotel  menus  in  German,  by  the  way,  broke  down 
because  only  three  foreigners  out  of  ten  could 
understand  them.     At  Neuchatel,  according  to 

|:  M.  Dauzat,  the  deliberations  of  a  German  Swiss 
society  called  the  Griitli  have  now  to  be  con- 
ducted in  French  ;  the  same  paradox  may  be 
noticed  at  Lausanne.  In  the  German  towns 
near  the  linguistic  frontier,  or  of  mixed  race, 
such  as  Fribourg,  Sion,  and  Sierre,  French  is  the 
language  of  good  society.     In  all  parts  of  the 

j;  country  we  foreigners  expect  officials  and  hotel 
proprietors  to  speak  French,  and  reserve  our 
German  for  the  peasantry  and  the  chamber- 

Ij:  maids.     I   have  noticed  that  German  railway- 

I'  men  like  to  be  addressed  in  French,  whereas  in 
the  French  cantons  no  one  is  proud  of  speaking 
German.  The  extension  of  the  railway  system 
has  an  important  bearing  on  the  language 
question.  While  the  lines  running  into  the  Jura 
from  Bale  and  Berne  have  accelerated  the  Ger- 
manisation  of  the  region,  the  prolongation  and 
R  257 


Switzerland 

increased  importance  of  the  Simplon  line  has 
recovered  a  great  deal  of  ground  for  the  French. 
The  language  of  Moliere  seems  then  likely  to 
hold  its  own,  even  though  the  French  race  may 
lose  something  of  its  purity  ;  but  on  the  other 
side,  German  is  fast  extinguishing  the  Romansch 
in  the  Orisons  and  is  now  heard  in  the  remotest 
valleys  of  that  outpost  of  the  Latin  race. 

"  Switzerland  a  German  province  !  "  was  the 
toast  audaciously  proposed  by  a  Bernese  pro- 
fessor some  years  ago.  But  the  cry  roused  a 
tempest  of  indignation  throughout  the  con- 
federation, nowhere  else  more  violent  than  in  the 
German  cantons.  "  We  cling  to  our  language," 
instantly  responded  another  professor,  "  but  we 
are  Switzers  all ;  and  we  German  Swiss  have 
not  much  to  learn  in  things  German  from  the 
Prussians  !  "  It  is  the  new  Italy  and  the  new 
Prussianised  Germany  of  which  the  confedera- 
tion stands  most  in  fear.  From  the  west  and 
the  east  no  danger  threatens ;  but  the  days  are 
long  past  since  the  Swiss  sentinels  along  the 
Rhine  fraternised  with  the  easy-going,  pictur- 
esquely dressed  soldiers  of  Baden  and  Wurtem- 
berg,  leaning  lazily  on  their  old-fashioned  arms 
at  the  opposite  end  of  the  bridges.  Those  soldiers 
are  now  alert  and  aggressive,  drilled  and  uni- 
formed like  Prussians,  commanded  from  Berlin. 
The  watch  on  the  Rhine  is  now  strictly  kept  on 
both  sides.     While  southern  Germany  perhaps 

258 


The  Lowlands  of  Switzerland 

reluctantly  conforms  to  the  Prussian  model,  the 
republic  cherishes  the  old  German  traditions. 

"  Nowhere,"  remarks  M.  Dauzat,  "  is  the 
contrast  between  the  two  banks  more  striking 
than  at  Rheinfelden.  The  coquettish  little 
Aargau  town,  whose  waters  draw  numerous 
visitors,  has  been  modernised  as  regards  its  new 
quarters,  without  any  injury  to  its  past,  without 
touching  the  picturesque  old  streets,  with  their 
pointed  gables,  or  the  ancient  houses  massed 
in  artistic  disorder  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine. 
But  on  the  other  side,  all  is  in  the  hideous 
Prussian  '  modern-style  '  —  heavy  buildings, 
loud  and  crude,  in  freestone.  The  ostentatious 
display  of  the  parvenu  '  good  old  Germany ' 
has  not  only  become  the  prey  of  militarism  but 
also  of  bad  taste.  The  ancient  wooden  covered 
bridge,  with  its  exquisite  savour  of  Mediaeval 
archaeology,  which  spans  the  Rhine,  resting 
half  way  upon  an  islet,  has  been  studiously 
preserved  on  the  Swiss  side — German  vandalism 
has  destroyed  the  other  half  and  replaced  it  by 
an  iron  bridge  ;  no  doubt  a  triumph  of  en- 
gineering but  the  most  discordant  combination 
it  is  possible  to  conceive.  But  the  Badeners 
are  proud  of  their  new  bridge  and  deride  the  poor 
backward  Swiss  and  their  devotion  to  such  old- 
fashioned  lumber.  This  bridge  is  a  symbol. 
The  worst  of  it  is  that  German  taste  has  in  more 
than  one  place  succeeded  in  crossing  the  Rhine." 

259 


Switzerland 

It  has  done  so,  for  instance,  at  the  ancient 
town  of  Bale,  and  broken  down  behind  it  the 
dehghtful  old  bridge,  at  the  end  of  which  the 
Lallenkonig  from  a  window  in  a  tower  for  many 
centuries  rolled  his  eyes  and  put  out  his  tongue 
at  the  burghers  of  Little  Bale  opposite.  The 
grotesque  manikin  has  been  banished  to  the 
museum,  and  since  the  annexation  of  Alsace  the 
city  has  bows  and  smiles  for  the  German  border. 
It  was  never  much  visited  by  travellers — of  the 
uncommercial  variety — and  has  less  now  than 
ever  to  detain  them.  We  all  have  recollections 
of  its  buffet,  of  hurried  meals  between  trains,  or 
of  long,  dreary  waits  in  the  dim  morning  light  in 
its  vast  waiting-rooms.  I  confess  that  my  im- 
pressions of  the  city  have  been  gained  in  a  suc- 
cession of  such  intervals  in  all  seasons  and  at  aU 
hours  of  the  day.  I  never  found  much  to  inter- 
est me  there,  and  am  not  astonished  to  hear  that 
the  town  is  the  headquarters  of  Continental 
Methodism  and  the  home  of  many  wealthy 
burghers.  It  contains  more  millionaires  (in 
francs) ,  I  am  told,  than  any  other  Swiss  city ; 
and  these  affluent  persons  do  not  wish,  like  the 
Orientals,  to  make  any  secret  of  their  wealth. 
Tall  modern  houses,  such  as  one  may  see  at 
Frankfort  and  Cologne,  rise  up,  gaunt  and 
glaring,  in  quaint  mediaeval  streets.  The  ancient 
Rathaus  has  been  furbished  up,  and  is  now  a  blaze  j  j^j  I 
of  red  and  gold — though  it  is  but  fair  to  the 

260 


Ihei 


The  Lowlands  of  Switzerland 

Balers  to  add  that  this  is  in  accordance  with 
the    original    mediaeval    design.     "  Hie    frigent 

;  artes,"  sighed  Erasmus ;  and  Holbein  left  its 
phiUstine  atmosphere  for  the  Court  of  England. 
The  hand  of  the  German  restorer  has  been  busy 
with  the  roof  of  the  grand  old  red  cathedral,  rising 

:  so  much  like  Strassburg,  from  a  cliff  above  the 
Rhine.  The  Vandals  have  respected  the  chapter- 
house where  sat  the  famous  council  which  created 
a  schism  in  the  Catholic  Church  and  hindered  the 
union  with  the  Eastern  Church.  There  is  not 
much  else  worth  seeing  in  Bale,  except  the 
portrait  of  Holbein  by  himself  and  the  "  Dance 
of  Death,"  wrongly  attributed  to  him.  Bale  is  a 
comfortable,  thriving  provincial  town,  with  not 
much  animation,  and  decidedly  more  German 
than  Swiss. 

Zurich,  most  populous  of  Swiss  cities,  seated 
within  sight  of  the  mountains  beside  its  wide 
haze-bound  lake,  is  more  modem  and  go-ahead 
than  Bale,  and  yet  clings  more  loyally  to  national 
traditions.  It  exults,  like  Munich,  in  its  hearty 
jovial  German  spirit,  exulting  in  its  glorious 
past  while  zestfully  providing  for  the  future. 
It  rejoices  in  festivals  which  keep  alive  old 
memories,  and  loves  to  see  long  trains  of  boys 
and  girls  in  old-world  garb  winding  down  its 

I  magnificent  modern  streets.  The  new  bottles 
of  Zurich  have  stood  the  old  wine  very  well. 
There  is  plenty  for  the  tourist  to  see  here,  apart 

261 


Switzerland 

from  the  luxurious  shops  and  palace-Uke  hotels. 
The  National  Museum  is  one  of  the  most  fascinat- 
ing institutions  of  the  kind  in  the  whole  world, 
deserving  to  rank  with  the  Cluny  at  Paris  and 
the  Ottoman  Museum  at  Constantinople.  Its 
collections  of  old  Swiss  furniture,  costumes,  and 
war  trophies  in  their  fine  mediaeval  interiors, 
make  one  long  for  a  similar  national  museum  in 
England,  where  only  the  products  of  Egypt, 
Assyria,  Greece,  and  Italy  are  deemed  worthy 
of  preservation  at  the  public  expense.  iVn  old 
banner  taken  at  Crecy  or  the  battered  forecastle 
of  one  of  Drake's  ships  ought  to  thrill  us  more 
than  even  the  most  dignified  mummy  or  the 
blandest  of  man-bulls.  Zurich  is  full  of  life  and 
very  proud  of  itself.  "  See,"  it  says  to  its 
children,  "  what  a  past  we  Swiss  have  had ;  go 
out  to  our  factories  and  engine  shops  and  see 
what  we  are  doing  now.  Are  you  not  proud  to 
be  Zurichers  ?  "  The  prosperous  city  emulates 
Florence  and  Venice  in  its  encouragement  of 
arts  and  letters.  The  Zuricher  sticks  out  his 
chest  and  refers  to  his  city  as  Athens  by  the 
Limmat.  The  boast  has  some  justification. 
The  city  counts  half  the  men  of  letters  of 
Switzerland  among  her  children.  There  are  two 
universities — that  of  the  canton,  to  which  were 
welcomed,  in  the  thirties  and  forties,  Strauss 
and  many  professors  of  light  and  leading  ex- 
pelled by  reactionary  Germany  ;  and  the  federal 

262 


•      •    J     •   •   •      1 

'     .  -•  •   .    ,   . 


»  .  » 


'         •  •     •  • «       ■ 

»»       •  t    «  .      *      • 


J    •    ,    •    •       •  I 


m 


The  Lowlands  of  Switzerland 

polytechnic,  the  nucleus  of  a  national  university. 
Russians  and  Poles  abound  in  the  classes  and  in 
the  city.  They  are  hardly  as  safe  or  welcome 
on  Swiss  soil  as  formerly.  The  Swiss  have  grown 
suspicious  of  political  refugees,  at  least  since 
the  cruel  and  purposeless  assassination  of  the 
Empress  Elizabeth  in  the  territory  of  Geneva. 
Just  as  the  murderer  avenged  on  this  inoffensive 
woman  the  crimes  of  her  order,  so  the  Swiss  in 
their  panic  are  now  disposed  to  make  high- 
minded  political  exiles,  the  victims  of  brutish 
tyranny,  suffer  for  the  guilt  of  an  isolated 
Italian  workman.  Unfortunately  these  panics 
are  not  confined  to  Switzerland,  where  it  is  even 
less  easy  than  elsewhere  to  raise  the  "  alien  " 
scare.  But  when  Tatiana  Leontiev  shot  a 
Parisian  tourist  in  mistake  for  some  wretched 
Russian  bureaucrat,  the  commercial  instincts  of 
the  Switzers  were  aroused.  A  few  more  mis- 
takes of  this  kind  and  foreign  tourists  might 
boycott  the  country.  Tatiana  herself  got  off 
with  four  years'  imprisonment ;  but  the  alarm 
her  blunder  had  excited  was  glaringly  illustrated 
by  the  disgraceful  and  utterly  illegal  surrender 
of  the  refugee,  Vasiliev,  to  the  Russian  authorities 
in  the  following  year.  I  can  hardly  blame  a 
Polish  medical  man  whom  I  met  at  Berne  for 
refusing  to  discuss  the  affairs  of  his  nation  while 
within  the  longest  earshot  of  a  third  party. 
The  country  between  Berne  and  Zurich  and 

263 


Switzerland 

the  Rhine — the  fertile  lowlands  of  Switzerland — 
is  left  very  much  to  itself  by  foreigners.  It  is  a 
pleasant  region  of  thickly  wooded  hills,  some  of 
which  might  be  called  mountains  elsewhere,  wide 
plains,  and  quaint  old-world  towns,  recalling 
pre-confederation  days.  Over  the  town  gate 
of  Sursee  the  double  eagle  of  the  Empire  still 
outspreads  its  talons.  Not  far  off  are  the  battle- 
field of  Sempach,  watered  with  the  blood  of 
Arnold,  and  the  fine  old  abbey  of  Beromiinster, 
where  a  book  was  first  printed  in  Switzerland, 
The  foundation  commemorates  the  piety  of 
the  old  counts  of  Lenzburg,  whose  castle,  re- 
stored by  its  American  owner,  is  seen  by  the 
railway  traveller  from  Aargau  to  Lucerne.  The 
line  of  Lenzburg  became  extinct  in  1173.  Their 
lands  passed  to  the  house  of  Kiburg,  and  their 
lordship  over  this  part  of  the  Aargau  went  to  the 
Hapsburgs,  who  had  already  built  the  castle 
bearing  their  name  on  a  cliff  above  the  Aar 
near  the  ancient  town  of  Brugg.  Not  much 
more  than  the  keep  remains  of  this  cradle  of  the 
mighty  Imperial  race,  which  owes  so  much  more 
to  the  marriage  contract  than  to  the  sword. 
The  castle  is  more  romantic  in  its  site  than  in  its 
associations,  and  overlooks  the  blood-stained 
field  of  Konigsfelden.  There  stands  the 
nunnery  of  Poor  Clares  founded  by  the  Empress 
Elizabeth  and  Agnes,  Queen  of  Hungary,  in 
13 10   on   the   spot    where    their   husband    and 

264 


The  Lowlands  of  Switzerland 

father,  the  Emperor  Albert,  was  assassinated  two 
years  before.  "  Accordmg  to  tradition,"  says 
Murray,  "  the  high  altar  stands  on  the  spot 
where  Albert  fell.  He  had  crossed  the  ferry 
of  the  Reuss  in  a  small  boat,  leaving  his  suite 
on  the  opposite  bank.  He  was  attended  only 
by  the  four  conspirators.  The  chief  of  them, 
John  (later  surnamed  Parricida),  his  nephew — 
who  had  been  instigated  to  slay  him  by  the 
wrong  he  had  endured  in  being  kept  out  of  his 
paternal  inheritance  by  his  uncle — first  struck 
him  in  the  throat  with  his  lance.  Balm  ran  him 
through  with  his  sword,  and  Walter  von  Eschen- 
bach  cleft  his  skull  with  a  felling  stroke.  Rudolf 
von  Wart,  the  fourth,  took  no  share  in  the 
murder.  Although  the  deed  was  so  openly  done, 
in  broad  daylight,  almost  under  the  walls  of  the 
castle  of  Hapsburg,  and  in  sight  of  a  large  retinue 
of  armed  attendants,  the  murderers  were  able 
to  escape  in  different  directions  ;  and  the  re- 
tainers took  to  flight,  leaving  their  dying  master 
to  breathe  his  last  in  the  arms  of  a  poor  peas- 
ant who  happened  to  pass.  The  assassins  all 
escaped.  A  dire  vengeance  was  wreaked  by  the 
wife  and  sons  of  the  murdered  monarch  on  their 
families,  relations,  and  friends  ;  and  a  thousand 
victims  are  believed  to  have  expiated  with  their 
lives  a  crime  of  which  they  were  totally  in- 
nocent. Queen  Agnes  died  in  the  convent, 
but  her  body/'jWas  conveyed  to  Austria  in  the 

265 


Switzerland 

eighteenth  century.  Here  too  were  buried  many 
of  the  nobles  who  fell  at  Sempach.  The  nunnery 
was  suppressed  at  the  Reformation  and  is  now 
a  lunatic  asylum." 

The  Swiss  lowlands  are  rich  in  castles  and 
historic  sites.  Overlooking  Frauenfeld,  the  chief 
town  of  Thurgau,  is  the  castle  of  the  counts  of 
Kiburg  who  inherited  the  lands  of  the  Lenzburgs 
and  in  turn  passed  them  on  to  the  Hapsburgs  in 
1264.  There  is  another  stronghold  of  the  same 
house  near  Winterthur,  restored  in  good  taste, 
the  interior  very  much  what  it  must  have  been 
when  Rudolf  of  Hapsburg  resided  here.  Arenen- 
berg,  on  the  Untersee — a  chateau,  not  a  castle — 
was  the  retreat  of  Queen  Hortense  and  the 
asylum  of  her  son,  Louis  Napoleon.  Louis 
Philip  demanded  the  Prince's  expulsion.  The 
Swiss,  with  a  courage  they  have  not  always  dis- 
played since,  prepared  to  fight  rather  than 
violate  the  laws  of  hospitality ;  whereon  the 
generous  Prince  left  the  country  rather  than 
bring  disaster  on  his  hosts.  Three  or  four 
miles  away  is  the  castle  of  Gottlieben,  a  good 
deal  modernised  and  distinguished  by  its  two 
high-peaked  towers.  This  was  the  prison  of 
John  Huss  and  Jerome  of  Prague,  and  thence, 
in  defiance  of  the  safe-conduct  granted  them 
by  the  Emperor  Sigmund,  they  were  taken  to 
their  death  by  fire  on  a  piece  of  waste  ground 

outside  Constanz. 

266 


r 


The  Lowlands  of  Switzerland 

The  great  lake  of  these  parts,  the  Bodensee, 
which  washes  the  shores  of  Switzerland,  Austria, 
and  the  three  south  German  states,  seems  tame 
•and  colourless  to  the  tourist  fresh  from  the 
forest  cantons  or  the  Oberland.  He  lingers  by 
its  fertile^  smiling  shores,  perhaps,  on  his  way 
from  quaint  Schaffhausen  (the  town  of  onions) 
and  the  neighbouring  Rhine  falls,  to  the  remote 
highlands  of  Appenzell,  which  every  writer  on 
Switzerland  strives  to  popularise.  This  is  a 
country,  we  are  assured,  of  rare  and  primitive 
simplicity  ;  and  as  such  should  be  extremely 
uninteresting.  The  simplicity  of  which  these 
writers  speak  means  a  hide-bound  conformity 
to  anciently  established  customs,  beliefs,  and 
modes  of  thought.  It  means  an  archaic  arti- 
ficiality. The  native  costumes,  which  are  shock- 
ingly hideous,  are  simply  the  fashions  more  or 
less  general  in  this  part  of  the  world  two 
centuries  ago.  As  an  instance  of  the  simplicity 
of  these  rustics,  one  writer  comments  on  the 
fewness  of  illegitimate  births  among  them ; 
which  means,  if  it  means  anything  at  all,  that 
their  morality  is  based  entirely  upon  civil  and 
religious  ordinances — the  mark  of  a  highly- 
sophisticated  people.  Dancing  is  regulated  and 
limited  by  elaborate  restrictions,  which  is  just 
as  well,  as  it  here  consists  in  gyrations  rather  less 
graceful  than  a  drunken  bear's.  Social  inter- 
course is  confined  to  the  taverns,  and  is  varied 

267 


i 


Switzerland 

only  by  drinking  and  card-playing.  "  The 
family  circle  when  left  to  itself,"  says  an  Ameri- 
can admirer  of  this  primitive  people,  '^  is  apt  to 
be  a  place  of  much  solemnity.  It  is  marked  by 
silence  broken  at  irregular  intervals  by  com- 
fortable ejaculations  oi  ja  I  ja  !  or  so-o  !  " 

I  understand  that  people  are  sent  to  this 
Early  Victorian  canton  for  the  whey-cure,  what- 
ever that  may  be.  It  is  also  recommended  for 
sufferers  from  the  simple-life  craze.  Perhaps 
one  of  these  days  it  will  be  generally  realised  that 
savages,  rustics.  Early  Victorians,  and  puritans 
depart  very  much  farther  from  nature  than  the 
emancipated  woman  and  the  gay  Parisian,  who 
are  often  pointed  to  with  horror.  People  who 
crush  out  all  the  instincts  of  human  nature, 
good  and  bad,  and  live  by  rule,  may  be  excellent 
and  altogether  admirable  ;  but  they  are  leading 
not  the  simple  but  the  artificial  life. 


a68 


'  *      c        c        c  c 


*  c  <^     '     '  C      «      f "     f      ,  *^     «  c      c ,  c      ^       / 


t 


THE    PROTESTANT   ROME 

Puritanism,  entrenched  in  Catholic  Appenzell, 
has  lost  its  hold  on  its  ancient  bulwark,  Geneva. 
That  one-time  school  for  saints  possesses  the 
fatal  gift  of  beauty  (or  rather  her  surroundings 
do),  and,  like  the  "  ruined  "  damsels  of  melo- 
drama, now  goes  clad  in  purple  and  fine  linen. 
The  example  of  Voltaire  or  Rousseau  or  the 
French  Revolution  may  be  set  down  perhaps 
as  the  immediate  cause  of  her  backsliding ;  but 
her  corruption  was  inevitable  the  moment  that 
the  world  awoke  to  a  consciousness  of  the  glory 
of  her  mountains  and  the  charm  of  her  lake. 

Yet  Geneva,  like  the  betrayed  maiden  of  the 
tragedy,  still  affects  to  sigh  for  the  respectability 
of  her  upbringing  and  has  yielded  somewhat 
grudgingly  to  the  wiles  of  the  seducer.  When, 
as  too  often  happens,  the  mist  has  hidden  Mont 
Blanc,  and  the  Saleve  frowns  as  gaunt  and  sour 
as  Calvin's  self,  you  may  find  Geneva  in  her 
chastened  mood  in  the  high  town — the  old  town 
— where  the  houses  are  dark,  tall,  and  ruinous, 
their  chambers  airless  and  vault-like.  Here 
dwelt  Knox's  saints,  and  here  still  dwell  their 
descendants,  the  burgher  aristocracy.  The 
Ville-hautains,   the   people   of  the  lower  town 

269 


Switzerland 

call  them,  not  unfairly.     The  quarter  strikes  a 
chill  into  the  visitor.     The  shadow  of  Calvin  ■ 
still  darkens  its  narrow  streets  and  weighs  heavy 
on  the  cathedral  of  St  Pierre.     The  amenities  of 
the  high  town,  as  Edouard  Rod  truly  remarks,  : 
consist  in  the  fine  views  obtainable  from  some 
of  the  mansions,  as  also  from  the  Promenade  de  : 
la  Treille,  across  the  lake,  or  of  the  Jura.  [ 

From  this  famous  terrace  old  Geneva  looks  ^ 
down  disapprovingly  on  its  new  self.  Below,  on  ■ 
the  obviously-named  Place  Neuve,  rides  the  ' 
marble  effigy  of  General  Dufour,  the  soldier  who  • 
felled  the  Sonderbund,  and,  with  it,  old  Switzer- 
land. He  looks  towards  the  municipal  theatre,  \ 
very  much  resembling  the  Opera  House  of  Paris,  ■; 
The  municipal  theatre  of  Geneva  !  Even  Rous-  ' 
seau  told  Voltaire  that  he  could  not  love  him,  • 
since  he  had  corrupted  his  native  city  with  ' 
spectacles.  And,  shameful  to  relate  !  the  school  '■ 
for  saints  has  done  very  well  by  its  theatre.  It  • 
attracts  visitors  from  all  parts  of  Switzerland,  ' 
even  from  Lucerne  and  Zurich,  and  I  once  found  f 
my  hotel  crowded  with  such  enthusiastic  play-  ' 
goers.     The  theatre  is  open  on  Sundays. 

One  wonders,  too,  what  Calvin  would  have  ' 
said  had  be  caught  the  frivolous  airs  proceeding 
from  the  adjacent  conservatoire  of  music  ;    he  • 
would  have   been  less   profoundly   shocked,   I  ' 
wager,  by  the  scenes  which  have  procured  the 
Palais  Electoral,  close  by,  the  name  Boite  aux  ' 

270 


The  Protestant   Rome 

Gifles.  All  this  is  very  modern,  but  not  more 
po  nor  more  worldly  than  the  pretty  Jardin 
Anglais,  where  the  blue  Rhone  issues  from  the 
ilake,  and  the  opposite  quarter  of  the  city  with 
its  glaring  hotels  and  crowded  quays. 

Those  who  come  here,  as  all  sensible  people 
io,  in  spring  and  summer,  see  only  the  un- 
regenerate  or  degenerate  Geneva ;  no  contrast 
oetween  past  and  present  is  apparent  to  them. 
But  in  the  depth  of  winter,  the  city  takes  on  a 
hmereal  garment  under  which  Knox  himself 
night  recognise  it.  Nothing  can  be  more 
nelancholy  than  the  straight  streets  of  the  new 
:own  or  the  "  wynds  "  of  the  old,  pallid  and 
dlent  in  the  pitiless,  stealthy  snow.  You  come 
)ut  upon  the  lake  shore,  and  recoil  as  if  you 
lad  reached  the  strand  of  the  Polar  sea.  You 
escape  into  a  side  street  and  are  dogged  by 
looded  cloaked  figures,  each  one  of  whom  might 
)e  the  ghost  of  Calvin.  It  is  a  relief  to  turn  to 
;he  Pont  du  Mont  Blanc,  where  the  seagulls 
.cream  and  chatter,  disputing  desperately  with 
iach  other  for  the  morsels  of  bread  you  may 
;hrow  them.  Heavens,  how  cold  it  is  !  The 
sle  of  Rousseau  close  by  has  been  altogether 
ibandoned  by  the  nursemaids  and  infants  to 
vhom  it  belongs  by  prescriptive  right  in  milder 
easons.  You  return  to  your  hotel  and  sit  on 
he  stove  for  half-an-hour  or  so,  to  restore 
ensation  to  your  frozen  anatomy.     If  you  are 

271 


Switzerland 

wise  you  will  hasten  up  to  St  Cergues  in  the 
Jura  or  to  Adelboden  or  the  distant  Grisons, 
where  the  rude  blasts  exhilarate  and  the  tobog- 
gans race  down  the  inclines.  Geneva  is  but  a 
refrigerator. 

For  long  it  was  the  refrigerator  of  man's  soul 
as  well  as  body.  The  history  of  Geneva  makes 
a  curious  chapter  in  European  history.  "  Led 
on  by  the  religious  passion  which  Calvin  let 
loose  upon  them,"  says  Edouard  Rod,  "  the 
Genevese,  till  then  so  jealous  of  their  liberties, 
surrendered  them  to  the  most  pitiless  of  tyrannies 
— that  which  refuses  liberty  even  to  the  con- 
science, which  imposes  beliefs  and  enslaves  th( 
thought."  The  citizens  who  had  expelled  th( 
bishop  and  revolted  against  the  mild  authorit} 
of  Savoy,  suffered  a  black-a-vised,  sour-visagec 
fanatic  to  trample  on  their  necks,  to  make  theii 
lives  a  foretaste  of  the  hell  to  which  he  pro 
claimed  a  vast  proportion  of  them  were  ine\dt 
ably  and  through  no  fault  of  their  own  doomed 
John  Calvin  put  out  the  lights  in  heaven  an( 
earth.  Man  was  devoted  here  below  to  hard 
ships  which  could  not  by  any  possibility  redeen 
him  from  damnation  in  another  life.  Can  om 
imagine  a  creed  more  absurd  !  The  magistral 
was  advised  by  Calvin  that  he  did  not  bear  th 
sword  in  vain  ;  and  that  if  he  could  not  sav^ 
men's  souls,  he  could  chastise  their  bodies.  Th 
consistory  assumed  the  direction  of  the  life  o 

272 


I/,    ir.   McLcUan. 


Miirrcn. 


■ever 
m 

Bibli 
:agu 
iniusi 
idrinl 
'the] 
'The 
by 
•:forct 
in  a 
whic 
iServ 
iinsti 
:Plac 
iSabl 

,or; 
iman 
icy 
ives 

In 
^onf 
lihov 
of  a 
belif 
icity 
lieat 


The   Protestant  Rome 

3very  citizen.  Every  offence  against  Calvin's 
3wn  code  of  morals  was  rigorously  punished. 
A.dultery,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  was  punished 
oy  death.  Actions  nowhere  condemned  by  the 
Bible^  which  this  sectary  professed  to  take  as 
I  guide,  were  equally  forbidden — card-playing, 
nusic,  the  wearing  of  plush  breeches,  eating  or 
drinking  beyond  certain  narrow  limits.  It  was 
;he  puritan's  paradise  and  everybody  else's  hell. 
The  most  atrocious  murders  were  perpetrated 
oy  these  fanatics.  Bonivard's  nominal  wife, 
:orced  upon  him  by  the  consistory,  was  sewn  up 
n  a  sack  and  drowned,  for  an  alleged  infidelity, 
A^hich  her  husband  would  have  approved ; 
icrvetus  was  burnt  at  the  stake  at  Calvin's 
nstigation,  for  some  theological  quibble,  on  the 
Place  de  Champel.  Here  was  bred  that  narrow 
Sabbatarianism,  those  grotesque  conceptions  of 
norality  which  have  unfortunately  infected  so 
nany  countries,  not  least  of  all  our  own.  The 
;cy  blast  of  Geneva  has  still  power  to  wither 
ives. 

In  its  own  citadel  the  bad  old  standard  has 
;one  down  for  ever.  If  any  respect  at  all  is 
hown  to  the  old  traditions,  it  is  rather  because 
)f  a  sentimental  patriotism  than  out  of  any 
relief  in  them.  The  Allied  Powers  in  giving  the 
city  the  neighbouring  Catholic  communes  struck  a 
ieath-blow  at  the  old  order.  Ten  years  ago  the 
3alvinists  were  found  to  be  in  a  minority  in  their 
s  273 


Switzerland 

own  birthplace.  The  CathoHcs  took  a  bitter 
revenge  for  the  persecution  of  centuries.  The 
disestablishment  of  the  Calvinist  Church,  so  long 
the  State  religion,  was  decreed  by  the  Grand 
Council  by  sixty  votes  against  twenty-three ; 
and  the  decree  was  ratified  on  an  appeal  to  the 
people  of  the  canton,  on  30th  June  1907,  by  a 
majority  of  eight  hundred  electors.  The  Pro- 
testant Rome  fell  within  forty  years  of  the 
Catholic  Rome. 

The  Genevese  are  free  to  enjoy  themselves. 
And  if  they  still  show  the  timid  restraint  of  the 
newly-enfranchised,  at  least  they  do  all  they 
can  to  make  their  town  pleasant  for  the  stranger. 
The  canton  swarms  with  foreigners — not  merely 
with  the  French  of  the  surrounding  departments, 
and  our  old  friends,  the  English  resident  abroad, 
but  with  Latin  Americans,  Russians,  Bulgarians, 
Turks,  Egyptians,  and  men  of  every  hue  and 
tongue.  It  is  a  favourite  asylum  of  political 
refugees ;  though  here,  as  at  Zurich,  their  im- 
munities have  of  late  years  been  more  and  more 
limited.  Yet  here  it  was  that  the  Young  Turk 
Movement  had  its  headquarters,  here,  probably, 
that  the  foul  murder  of  Alexander  and  Draga  of 
Servia  was  planned.  The  serpent  of  old  Nile 
hatches  plots  by  these  cold,  incongruous  waters 
for  the  expulsion  of  the  Khaki-clad  oppressors. 
The  Slavs — who  include  many  dashing  girl- 
graduates — frequent  the  university  and  at  tea- 

274 


The  Protestant  Rome 

time  plan  conspiracies  in  the  patisseries  of  the 

Rue  Mont  Blanc.     The  Latin  Americans  include 

I  a  few  retired  presidents  and  mild-eyed  dictators, 

■  but  are,  for  the  most  part,  lithe,  simian-looking 
I  lads,  passing  a  few  months  at  one  of  the  numerous 
;  international  colleges.     Half  the  slender  revenues 
I  of  their  petty  states  must  go  to  defray  the  educa- 
tion of  these  students,  whose  precocity  in  worldly 
matters  exceeds  their  expensively  acquired  learn- 
ing.    The  Latin  father  likes  his  son  to  sow  his 
wild  oats,  but  surely  thirteen  or  fourteen  years 

•  of  age  is  too  early  to  begin. 

i      A  queer  change  this  cold,  insipid  city  must  be 

■  for  these  lively  westerners,  from  their  scorching, 
highly  coloured  native  land.  The  cloudy  sum- 
mit of  Mont  Blanc  can  hardly  dazzle  the  eyes 
which  first  opened  on  giant  Chimborazo  lifting 
a  gleaming  silver  dome  into  a  sky  of  eternal  blue 

'  — the  Rhone  might  pass  unnoticed  by  the  new- 
comer from  the  Amazon  or  Orinoco.     The  belles 

I  of  Lima  and  Rio  exceed  in  charm,  I  imagine,  the 
nice  young  ladies  of  Geneva,  who  are,  admits 
Edouard  Rod,  a  little  preachy ;  though,  he 
gallantly  adds,  no  one  minds  a  sermon  from  a 
pretty  mouth.  Well,  Geneva  may  after  all  be  a 
good  introduction  to  the  intenser  life  of  Europe, 
as  its  social  life  seems  to  illustrate  the  transition 
of  Protestantism  into  an  enlightened  worldli- 
ness. 


275 


WINTER    IN    THE    ALPS 

Switzerland  no  longer  hibernates.  Time  was 
when,  as  soon  as  the  hotelkeeper  had  closed  the 
door  behind  the  last  autumn  tourist,  he  fell  to 
counting  his  gains,  and  then  went  to  bed — or  the 
Riviera — till  the  return  of  spring.  The  guides 
became  waiters  or  boatmen  on  some  summer 
shore  or  kept  shop  in  the  towns.  The  Swiss  that 
did  not  migrate  with  the  swallows  slumbered  in 
their  burrows  like  the  marmots.  Over  the 
mountain  gates  of  the  Oberland,  over  Lucerne 
and  Zermatt,  might  have  been  inscribed  the 
familiar  device,  "  Closed  for  the  winter — to  be 
re-opened  next  spring  with  increased  attrac- 
tions." The  foreigners  disappeared,  or  were  to 
be  found  only  on  the  sheltered  shores  of  Lake 
Lenian.  The  Swiss  were  left  to  themselves ; 
rather,  each  family  was  left  to  itself,  for  in  the 
remoter  highlands  there  was  as  little  intercourse 
between  neighbouring  villagers  as  between  the 
poles.  Occasionally  the  snow-bound  peasants 
yawned  and  opened  sleepy  eyes,  and  amused 
themselves  in  their  seclusion  with  the  pastime 
of  carving,  which  has  found  some  favour  with 
idle  young  ladies  elsewhere.  In  all  the  older 
chalets  you  can  find  examples  of  native  skill, 

276 


,    ^  •  *    o      «  « 


'    '5' 


Winter  in  the  Alps 

fascinating  in  their  vigour,  and  simplicity,  and 
expressive  of  local  tradition. 

Outside  the  towns  and  the  snug  villages  the 
whole  land  was  left  to  the  stars  and  silence.  A 
vast  white  mantle  hung  from  the  Alps  and  Jura, 
wrapping  the  valleys  in  its  folds,  covering  the 
plain  with  its  wide  skirts.  The  torrents  stood 
still,  the  glaciers  were  motionless.  All  was 
white  save  where  the  pines  peeped  out,  crouch- 
ing beneath  their  heavy  burden  of  snow,  and 
where  the  great  lakes  expanded  in  sheets  of 
glassy  green.  Over  the  passes  toiled  the  little 
post-cart,  and  now  and  again  the  stillness  was 
startlingly  shattered  by  the  shriek  of  the  in- 
domitable railway  engine,  rushing  south  perhaps 
to  the  lands  of  the  sun.  Who  would  wish  to  be 
abroad  in  such  a  land — the  realm  of  the  Ice 
Maiden  ?  The  Englishman  sunned  himself  at 
Madeira  or  Cairo,  or  hugged  the  club  fire.  The 
Switzer  stirred  rarely  from  his  ill-ventilated 
homestead  and  cursed  the  spell  which  arrested 
the  flow  of  foreign  gold. 

That  is  all  changed  now.  The  English  dis- 
covered Switzerland  in  winter,  and  have  wrapped 
themselves  in  its  robes  to  find  them  warm  and 
health-giving.  Doctors  invented  the  cold  cure. 
Invalids  were  dragged  from  their  stuffy  firesides 
at  Bournemouth  and  Mentone,  and  sent  to  get 
well  or  die  at  Davos.  Then  it  was  seen  that 
Switzerland  in  winter  was  a  capital  playground 

277 


Switzerland 

for  the  athletic  and  the  frisky.  Here  you  had  a 
weather  which  could  make  up  its  mind — where 
it  froze  hard  and  the  ice  did  not  thaw  as  you  were 
in  the  act  of  putting  on  your  skates.  Winter 
sport !  the  Swiss  delightedly  awakened  to  the 
commercial  possibilities  of  snow  and  ice.  More- 
over, here  was  a  decoy  for  people  of  leisure  and 
well-lined  pockets,  sure  at  this  season  of  the 
year  not  to  be  defiled  by  contact  with  the  slaves 
of  shop  and  desk.  Sanatoria  sprang  up  like 
mushrooms — which  in  outward  structure  they 
vaguely  resemble.  Chalets  were  transformed 
into  hotels,  brand-new  hotels  were  hastily  run 
up — not  always  to  the  delight  of  the  aesthetic 
traveller.  Now  it  is  quite  the  thing  to  go  to 
Switzerland  in  the  winter — of  course  anybody 
can  go  in  the  summer. 

Strangely  enough,  the  new-comers  had  to  teach 
the  natives  how  to  get  about  over  their  own 
snowfields.  The  Swiss  seem  to  have  been  rather 
surprised  by  this  unseasonable  invasion,  and 
wondered  no  doubt  what  on  earth  foreigners 
could  find  to  do  in  those  regions  at  such  a  time 
of  year.  The  foreigners  soon  showed  them. 
The  rude  toboggan  was  adapted  by  the  ingenious 
English  into  a  very  handy  instrument  of  amuse- 
ment. John  Addington  Symonds,  who  settled 
at  Davos  in  1880,  began  the  evolution  which  has 
resulted  in  the  bobsleigh  and  the  development 
of  a  recognised  sport.     Then  the  ski  was  intro- 

278 


Winter  in   the  Alps 

duced  from  Norway.  The  Switzers  threw  them- 
selves with  ardour  into  the  great  game.  There 
was  no  longer  a  close  time  for  mountains.  Their 
highest  slopes  were  now  accessible.  Valley  was 
linked  with  valley.  Over  the  vast  snowfield 
of  Switzerland,  up  and  down  the  slopes  of  the 
Alps,  men  and  women  of  all  nations  g'ide 
joyously  and  swiftly  hither  and  thither.  The 
once  silent  valleys  resound  with  the  laughter 
and  cheers  of  merrymakers,  the  white  mantle 
is  everywhere  dotted  with  black  and  swiftly 
moving  figures.  Winter  is  Switzerland's  carnival 
time. 

It  is  not  carnival,  however,  for  that  sad  colony 
of  consumptives  at  Davos,  who  may  be  seen, 
when  the  sun  has  gone  down  behind  the  Schatz- 
alp,  shivering  on  the  terrace  of  the  sanatorium. 
There  they  sit  or  lie  prone  in  their  invalid  chairs, 
a  piteous  company  of  all  ages  and  nationalities, 
muffled  up  in  wraps,  and  sighing  perhaps  for 
the  balmy  airs  of  Egypt  and  Madeira.  No 
matter,  they  have  faith  in  the  dry  air  of  the 
Grisons,  and  the  longer  their  doctor  exposes 
them  to  the  biting  cold  the  more  do  they  believe 
in  him.  Yet  they  are  glad  enough  when  the 
signal  comes  for  the  return  to  the  warm  and 
lighted  interior  of  the  hotel.  Poor  people  !  one 
thinks,  why  not  let  them  make  the  best  of  what 
life  remains  to  them  in  the  warm  airs  of  the 
south.     Many    a   consumptive   has   lived   long 

279 


Switzerland 

enough  to  let  his  infirmity  heal  itself,  it  is  true, 
and  while  there  is  Hfe  there  is  hope. 

The  canton  Orisons  or  Graubunden  —  the 
largest  in  Switzerland — was  the  first  to  find 
foreign  gold  beneath  the  snowdrifts.  It  is  a 
savage  mountainous  region  made  up  chiefly  of 
long  parallel  valleys,  some  of  which  are  the 
highest  in  central  Europe.  The  twenty-four 
inhabitants  of  the  hamlet  of  Juf  live  at  a  height 
of  close  on  seven  thousand  feet  above  the 
sea.  Dense  forests  clothe  the  mountain  slopes, 
watered  by  the  new-born  currents  of  the  Rhine, 
the  Inn,  and  the  affluents  of  the  Adda.  In  these 
savage  valleys  lingers  the  old  Romansch  tongue, 
once  spoken  all  over  the  canton.  You  still  see 
the  ancient  Romansch  houses  with  their  low 
projecting  roofs,  their  massive  white  walls  with 
deep  narrow  windows  like  the  "  loops  "  of  a 
castle.  But  everywhere  now  the  German  speech 
is  heard,  and  the  German's  red  roof  and  wooden 
chalet  have  become  features  of  the  land. 

In  the  heart  of  the  country  the  far-famed  Via 
Mala  opens  up  a  path  from  the  valley  of  the 
Rhine  into  the  basin  of  the  Po.  It  is  perhaps 
the  finest  of  Swiss  gorges.  To  your  right, 
wooded  cliffs  confine  the  waters  of  the  Hinter 
Rhein ;  on  the  left  a  solid  block  of  rock  is 
crowned  by  the  castle  of  Hohen  Rhatien.  We 
are  here  at  the  door  of  the  defile.  Three  miles 
farther  on,  for  an  instant  the  walls  recede,  only 

280 


;  '  -  '■•  ' 


>  • . "  * 


o 

> 

Q 


t 


to  I 
to 

hig 
arc 


k 
pai 
tk 


adi 
tra 


iati 
tra 


aii( 
ca\ 
\il 
he 
puj 
of 
ik 
nis 
All 


Winter  in  the  Alps 

to  close  in  narrower  than  before.  The  road  clings 
to  the  side  of  the  naked  rock  rising  higher  and 
higher.  A  bridge  spans  with  a  single  narrow 
arch  the  black,  cold  cliffs,  for  ever  distilling  the 
mountain's  tears.  Far  below  the  Rhine  roars 
and  foams  along  the  channel  which  its  fury 
has  scooped  out.  A  stone  dropped  over  the 
parapet  takes  five  seconds  to  reach  the  floor  of 
the  abyss. 

"  The  valley  of  the  Albula,"  says  a  traveller, 
*'  reserves  for  us  another  surprise.  Here  as  in 
the  crossing  of  the  St  Gotthard,  the  railway  has 
added  to  the  charms  of  Alpine  travel.  The 
track  passes  and  repasses  in  zigzags  along  the 
rocky  or  wooded  wall,  burrows  in  its  flanks 
only  to  reappear  after  a  spiral  curve,  immed- 
iately above  the  mouth  of  the  first  tunnel, 
traverses  and  retra verses  the  valley  on  light  and 
aerial  viaducts,  climbs  by  drilling  into  the 
mountain,  by  hanging  on  to  every  projection, 
and  leaving  as  it  issues  from  each  black 
cavern,  the  traveller  bewildered — piercing  the 
village  of  Bergiin  disappearing  on  his  left  when 
he  believed  it  to  be  to  the  right.  At  last, 
puffing,  spitting,  smoking,  the  locomotive  out 
of  breath  reaches  Preda,  1800  metres  above 
the  sea,  a  charming  station,  tranquil  and 
rustic.  .  .  .  We  are  at  the  entrance  of  the  great 
Albula  tunnel,  between  two  peaks  with  great 

white  patches   which   dominate   all  the  upper 

281 


Switzerland  < 

valley.     Six  kilometres,  nearly  on  the  level  and  ( 

at  the  end  of  ten  minutes  the  train  issues  forth  i 

at    Spinas    in    a    different    world — the    Upper  t 

Engadine — '  where  the  bears  come  from.'  "  2 

The  history  of  this  strange  wild  region  in  the  i 

very  core  of  Europe  has  been  told  by  the  his-  i 

torian  of  the  Renaissance  as  he  alone  could  tell  t 

it.     Its   outlines  may  be  worth  reciting  here,  t 

now  that  the  canton  has  became  the  chosen  home  t 

of  the  modern  and  up-to-date  tourist.     Origin-  I 

ally  Celts,  the  people  were  Romanised  by  the  I 

Romans   and   less   thoroughly   Germanised   by  n 

the  Franks.     The  real  ruler  of  the  district  in  the  tl 

early  Middle  Ages  was  the  Bishop  of  Coire,  who  F 

allied  himself  with  the  Hapsburgs  in  the  year  '    j 

1 170.     To  curb  his  power,  two  hundred  years  ai 

later,    his    episcopal    town    and    several    com-  bi 

munities  in   the   Engadine   and  Val   Bregaglia  tl 

formed  the  League  of  God's  House  ;  which  his  tt 

lordship  presently  found  it  prudent  to  join  him-  01 

self.     Soon  after  (in  1395)  the  Abbot  of  Disentis  ts 

and   the   barons   of    the   upper   Vorder   Rhein  jj 

valley,   formed  the  Counts'  or  Upper  League,  b; 

which   ultimately   gave   the   whole    canton    its  fa 

name.     In    1456   the   subjects   of   the   extinct  b; 

counts  of  Toggenburg  formed  themselves  into  I  I 

ten  bailiwicks,  federated  under  the  name  of  the  ,  ^ 

League  of  the  Ten  Jurisdictions.     In  1450  this  ^ 

league    allied   itself   with   the   Gotteshausbund  ^ 

of  Coire,  and  twenty-one  years  later  with  the  .  Jj 

282 


Winter  in  the  Alps 

Oberbund.  These  two  associations  entered  into 
an  alliance  with  the  Swiss  confederation,  and 
together  they  defeated  the  mighty  Maximilian 
and  forced  him  to  acknowledge  the  practical 
independence  of  the  Grisons.  When  the  re- 
ligious troubles  began,  the  Oberbund  held  fast 
to  the  old  faith  (Disentis  is  Catholic  to  this  day) , 
but  the  rest  of  the  country  turned  Protestant, 
to  the  undoing,  of  course,  of  the  bishop.  The 
beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century  was  for  the 
leagues  as  for  their  Swiss  allies  a  period  of 
military  adventure.  In  15 12  they  conquered 
the  beautiful  Valtellina  and  held  it  down  to  the 
French  Revolution.  Then  ensued  a  struggle  for 
mastery  between  the  Engadine  house  of  Planta 
and  the  Bregaglia  house  of  Salis.  In  the  war 
betv/een  France  and  Spain,  the  Count  of  Fuentes, 
the  Spanish  Governor  of  the  Milanese,  secured 
the  friendship  of  the  Plantas  who  triumphed 
over  the  rival  faction.  But  in  1618  a  Protes- 
tant minister  named  Jenatsch  headed  a  revolt 
against  the  dominant  house,  and  procured  their 
banishment  to  Thusis — which  was  not  very 
far  after  all.  The  Protestants  used  their  victory 
badly,  especially  towards  the  Catholics  of  the 
Valtellina.  In  July  1620,  the  exasperated 
peasants  rose,  and,  assisted  by  Roburtelli,  a 
kinsman  of  the  Plantas,  massacred  five  hun- 
dred Protestant  Grisons.  The  Spaniards  and 
Imperialists   at   once   overran  the   valley,   and 

283 


Switzerland 

defeated  the  army  of  the  Protestant  cantons 
at  Tirano.  The  CathoHc  confederates  did  not 
hesitate  to  send  armed  assistance  to  the  rebels 
of  the  valley.  Now  followed  a  desperate  inter- 
necine warfare.  Pompey  Planta  was  attached 
and  killed  by  Jenatsch  and  the  Protestants  of 
the  Engadine.  The  next  year  the  tide  turned. 
Jenatsch  fled  from  the  country  ;  returned  again, 
was  again  driven  out,  and  in  1629  saw  the  three 
leagues  conquered  by  an  Imperial  army. 

In  1635  the  irrepressible  pastor  reappeared  at 
the  head  of  a  French  force.  The  Spaniards 
and  Austrians  were  expelled ;  but  when  the 
French  refused  to  confirm  the  leagues  in  the 
possession  of  their  subject  lands,  Jenatsch 
changed  sides,  called  in  the  Spaniards  and  drove 
his  late  allies  out  of  the  country. 

The  strife  of  factions  was  not  yet  at  an  end. 
Rudolf  Planta,  a  son  of  the  murdered  Pompey, 
struck  down  Jenatsch  at  a  festival  in  1639. 
Very  slowly  tranquillity  was  restored.  The 
Valtellina  was  handed  back  to  the  leagues,  but 
the  liberties  of  the  Catholic  inhabitants  were 
guaranteed.  Spain  reserved  the  right  to  send 
troops  over  the  passes  of  the  Orisons,  and 
Austria  surrendered  all  her  feudal  rights  in 
the  country  at  the  peace  of  Westphalia.  The 
independence  of  the  Graubunden  was  recognised 
at  the  same  time  as  that  of  Switzerland  ;  but 
it  was  not  till  1799  that  the  three  leagues  were 

284 


Winter  in   the   Alps 

amalgamated  and  at  the  same  time  absorbed 
into  the  Helvetic  Republic. 

The  truculent  Jenatsch  is  buried  at  the 
cathedral  of  Coire,  which,  by  the  way,  is  dedi- 
cated to  a  mythical  British  king,  St  Lucius.  It 
is  an  interesting  church,  dating  in  part  from  the 
eighth  century.  The  chapel  of  the  bishop's 
palace  is  one  of  the  oldest  places  of  Christian 
worship,  and  is  embedded  in  a  Roman  tower. 
Till  the  year  1806  the  Episcopal  buildings  still 
formed  part  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  and  the 
Catholic  portion  of  the  town  was  walled  off  from 
the  Protestant  and  closed  by  gates  at  nightfall. 
Since  those  days,  the  capital  of  the  Orisons  has 
lost  a  good  deal  of  its  interest  for  strangers, 
though  it  should  be  remembered  as  the  birth- 
place of  one  of  the  few  eminent  Swiss  painters, 
Angelica  Kaufmann.  The  valley  of  the  Vorder 
Rhein  is  rather  neglected  by  visitors  to  the 
canton,  though  the  scenery  is  beautiful  and, 
by  reason  of  the  numerous  castles,  romantically 
picturesque.  We  pass  the  castle  of  Rhazuns, 
of  which  Mr  Coolidge  has  recorded  the  extra- 
ordinary history.  Having  long  been  the  centre 
of  a  powerful  lordship,  it  was  mortgaged  in  1475 
or  1490  to  the  lord  of  Marmols,  who  exchanged 
it  in  1497  with  Maximilian  of  Austria  for  another 
domain  in  Suabia.  In  1586  the  Hapsburgs  sold 
the  lordship  to  the  Plantas,  but  bought  it  back 
.again  in  1695,  to  the  great  disgust  of  the  Rhaetian 

285 


Switzerland 

leagues.  By  the  treaty  of  Pressburg,  in  1805, 
Austria  ceded  Rhazuns  to  Bavaria — which  also 
took  the  Tyrol — but  four  years  later  Bavaria 
ceded  it  to  France.  In  18 15  Austria  agreed  to 
surrender  the  lordship  to  the  newly-formed 
canton,  but  did  not  actually  do  so  till  1819. 

Tarasp,  the  other  Austrian  "  enclave,"  came 
into  the  possession  of  the  Hapsburgs  in  1464, 
and  was  sold  in  1652  to  the  Dietrichsteins,  who 
held  it  till  1801.  Like  Rhazuns  it  was  acquired  by 
France,  and  not  annexed  to  the  Grisons  till  1809. 

Ilanz,  twenty  miles  above  Coire,  was  the 
capital  of  the  Oberbund.  Eleven  miles  farther 
on,  at  the  entrance  to  the  village  of  Trons,  is 
the  sycamore  under  which  the  oath  was  ad- 
ministered to  the  members  of  the  league  by  the 
abbot  of  Disentis.  The  abbey  still  stands  on  a 
terrace  above  Disentis,  where  two  torrents  meet 
to  form  the  Vorder  Rhein.  It  was  founded,  they 
say,  by  an  Irishman  in  the  year  614,  and  must 
have  been  the  beginning  of  civilisation  in  this 
wild  region.  It  presents  an  imposing  air  but 
it  is  not  the  venerable  fabric  raised  by  the 
missionary,  for  that  was  burnt  long  ago  ;  and 
it  has  now  been  converted  into  a  college  and  a 
technical  institute.  From  Disentis  it  is  eighteen 
miles  over  the  fortified  Oberalp  Pass  to  Ander- 
matt  in  the  canton  Uri. 

The  Grisons  still  holds  its  own  as  the  principal 
winter  resort  in  Switzerland  for  those  in  search 

286 


: 


Winter  in  the   Alps 

of  health  and  of  the  rudest  forms  of  amusement. 
Davos  had  been  long  "  indicated "  by  the 
faculty  as  a  sanatorium,  before  the  lusty  tribe 
of  skaters  and  skiers  poured  into  the  valley  and 
warmed  the  hearts  of  the  invalids  with  their 
jollity  and  vigour.  The  English  skating  club 
was  founded  at  Davos  in  1889.  Since  that  time 
the  little  town  has  grown  beyond  recognition ; 
it  grew,  as  Addington  Symonds  tells  us,  under  his 
.  very  eyes.  That  great  writer  could  not  fairly 
complain  now  that  life  there  was  monotonous. 
The  village  has  taken  on  much  of  the  character 
of  Homburg  or  Vichy.  It  has  splendid  hotels 
and  shops,  and  a  first-rate  theatre.  It  has 
three  rinks,  covering  altogether  no  less  than 
35,000  square  yards.  One  of  these  is  set 
apart  for  members  of  the  English  Davos  Club 
(English  style)  and  for  expert  skaters  in  the 
international  style.  A  third  rink  is  for  curlers. 
There  are  three  toboggan  runs,  each  about  two 
miles  long.  These  are  all  served  by  railway. 
Your  toboggan  is  taken  by  the  funicular  to  the 
[summit  of  the  Schatzalp,  and  thence  you  have 
|the  finest  crooked  snow  run  down  in  the  world. 
It  was  on  the  famous  Davos-Klosters  run  that 
toboggan  races  were  instituted  in  Switzerland, 
under  the  patronage  of  Symonds,  with  the  old- 
fashioned  Swiss  machine.  The  course,  like  the 
Schatzalp,  is  two  miles  long  and  stiU  remains  an 

almost  ideal  run. 

287 


Switzerland 

The  presence  of  the  invalids  at  Davos  has  un- 
doubtedly contributed  to  the  rise  of  the  resorts 
in  the  Engadine,  that  strange  convex  valley 
where  it  is  winter  nine  months  in  the  year  and 
three  months  cold  weather.  While  Pontresina 
seems  to  score  as  a  summer  resort,  St  Moritz 
grows  yearly  in  popularity  with  the  devotees 
of  ski  and  toboggan.  The  scenery,  as  everyone 
now  knows,  is  wild,  gloomy,  and  almost  Scan- 
dinavian in  character.  The  town  —  it  is  a 
village  no  longer — of  St  Moritz  stands  6090  feet 
above  sea-level  and  148  feet  above  the  Maloja 
Pass.  In  such  surroundings  there  is  plenty  to 
stir  the  Viking  blood,  which  must  be  possessed 
in  considerable  quantities  by  other  visitors  than 
the  English,  to  judge  from  the  languages  heard 
on  the  rink.  I  suspect  that  the  place  attracts  a 
good  many  people  not  much  interested  in  the 
sports.  Two  o'clock  tea  on  the  terraces  of  the 
hotels  allows  an  opportunity  for  the  exhibition 
of  the  "  latest  cry  "  in  costumes  in  a  milieu 
apparently  designed  for  eskimos  and  polar 
bears. 

The  tide  of  fashion  has  in  fact  been  largely 
diverted  of  recent  years  from  Nice  and  Cairo  to 
these  snow-bound  wildernesses.  Naturally  the 
rest  of  Switzerland  is  on  the  alert  and  eager  to 
share  the  good  fortune  of  the  largest  canton. 
Winter  sport  centres  are  springing  up  with 
amazing  rapidity  all  over  the  country,  thanks 

288 


•    •   • 


c 
!c 

'5 

M 

Si 
o 

m 


o 
o 


u 


Winter  in  the  Alps 

largely  to  the  intelligent  co-operation  of  the 
Swiss  railways  and  hotel  people  with  Cook's  and 
Sir  Henry  Lunn.  In  the  Bernese  Oberland, 
Grindelwald,  Miirren,  Wengen,  and  Adelboden 
attract  visitors  ;  St  Cergues  in  the  Jura,  Leuker- 
bad  in  Valais,  Andermatt  in  Uri,  and  the  resorts 
above  Montreux  must  be  added  to  the  list.  Be- 
fore long  every  place  which  has  a  summer 
clientele  will  open  its  doors  for  the  winter  guest. 

"  Heigh-ho  !   the  holly 
This  life  is  most  jolly  " 

lis  the  unanimous  verdict  of  those  that  try 
'Switzerland  at  its  most  inclement  season.  The 
winter  sportsman  is  infected  with  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  Alpine  climber.  Young  and  old,  the  hale 
and  the  halt,  take  on  a  new  lease  of  life.  We 
once  met  an  old  fellow  of  seventy  and  odd  who 
had  ski-ed  over  the  Albula  Pass  and  had  wound 
up  by  the  four-miles  bob-run  from  St  Moritz  to 
Bergijn,  and  he  had  the  heart  of  a  boy  intoxi- 
cated with  a  couple  of  days'  open  life  in  frosty 
air.  Everywhere  it  is  the  same  story  during  a 
winter  holiday  in  Switzerland.  Everyone  is  in  a 
genial,  devil-may-care  mood,  with  all  the  worries 
of  life  forgotten.  For  some  weeks  at  least  the 
detachment  is  complete  and  final.  For  we  are 
right  in  the  heart  of  nature,  who  is  one  hour 
smiling,  sunny  and  exquisitely  beautiful,  and 
the  next,  hard  and  sinister  and  cold. 

T  289 


Switzerland 

Dulce  est  desipere  in  loco.  It  does  no  one  any 
harm  to  become  a  healthy  animal  at  times.  The 
poets  who  discovered  mountains  in  the  nine- 
teenth century  did  their  best  to  ruin  them  for 
ever.  Instead  of  taking  them  on  their  merits 
they  strewed  them  over  with  capitals,  they  de- 
graded them  into  habitations  for  unseen  Pre- 
sences all  flaunting  in  trailing  skirts  of  sunset 
verbiage.  They  wedded  them  to  commonplace 
moralisings ;  they  bid  us  bow  our  heads,  not 
before  the  beauty  of  the  mountains  but  before  an 
intangible  Something  "  far  more  deeply  inter- 
fused." But  with  the  advent  of  the  ski  and  the 
winter  sportsman,  a  mountain  has  again  become 
a  mountain  and  none  the  less  beautiful  because 
its  sparkling  stretches  of  snow  allure  earth-bom 
mortals  instead  of  the  inhabitants  of  some  new 
pantheon. 

Like  the  excellent  captain  of  the  Mantel 
piece,  the  hotel  proprietors  and  sports  com-; 
mittees  try  every  reasonable  plan  to  make  their 
visitors  happy.  Each  centre  naturally  develops 
its  own  tradition.  At  one  place  it  will  be 
mainly  English,  at  another  German,  at  another] 
Swiss,  at  yet  another  cosmopolitan.  We  English) 
appear  to  have  the  greatest  faculty  for  amusingj 
ourselves.  The  old  myth  that  we  are  a  reserved] 
people,  hide-bound  by  etiquette  and  convention,; 
is  not  likely  to  live  in  Switzerland.  For  that 
matter  it  is  not  easy  to  get  away  from  one's 

290  f| 


i 


Winter  in  the  Alps 

fellow-guests  in  their  snow-bound  valleys,  so 
there  is  a  virtual  necessity  to  make  oneself 
agreeable.  I  have  before  me  the  programme 
of  entertainments  at  one  of  these  resorts.  From 
i8th  December  to  31st  January  there  is  an 
uninterrupted  succession  of  dances,  concerts, 
games,  and  amateur  theatricals.  Fancy  -  dress 
balls  on  the  ice  are  very  jolly — more  so,  I  think, 
than  the  amateur  theatricals,  which  are  generally 
an  advertisement  of  the  goodwill  rather  than  of 
the  talent  of  the  actors.  At  Christmas  and  the 
New  Year  the  commune  often  comes  forward 
to  entertain  the  visitors.  The  hotel  proprietor, 
.it  should  be  remembered,  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten,  is  also  the  mayor.  You  have  an  opportunity 
of  dancing  (or  trying  to)  with  the  buxom  and 
not  very  beautiful  peasant  maidens  and  of 
proving  yourself  to  be  a  very  affable  and  con- 
descending personage.  Unfortunately  such  con- 
descension is  not  as  much  appreciated  among 
-  these  rude  Helvetians  as  it  would  be  in  a  Kentish 
li  village. 

''  By  day  the  sun  shines  with  the  power  of 
J' summer,  revealing  the  sharp  contours  and 
1  subtle  colour-blurs  —  mauve,  rosy  pink,  and 
[i  purple — of  the  white  landscape.  It  is  not  for 
t  long.  According  to  the  position  of  the  valley 
^and  the  length  of  the  shadow,  you  can  seldom 
&  count  on  more  than  three  or  seven  hours'  sun- 
ip  shine.     You  follow  the  sun  as  far  as  you  can 

291 


Switzerland 

and  then  seek  the  fireUght  of  your  inn.     The 
invaUds  remain  a  Httle  longer  perhaps  abroad. 

You  go  out  from  among  the  dancers  (a  rash 
thing  to  do)  and  behold  the  moon  at  the  full 
riding  through  a  cloudless  blue  sky.  To  see  this 
from  one  of  the  heights — preferably  above  the 
tree  line — with  the  pallid  ranges  rising  in  un- 
ending series  before  you,  is  to  revel  in  a  scene  of 
almost  unearthly  beauty.  For  a  moment  you 
might  fancy  you  stood  above  the  mountains  of 
the  moon  herself. 


292 


I 


WINTER   SPORTS 

I 

.  Of  all  the  sports  skating  is  perhaps  the  most 
,  popular  and  the  most  widely  practised.  Here 
the  English  are  handicapped.  For,  living  as  we 
do  in  a  climate  that  but  once  in  a  few  years 
[deigns  to  manufacture  ice  for  our  amusement, 
we  have  little  opportunity  for  practising  the 
sport.  The  attainments  of  the  ordinary  man 
are  mediocre,  and  though  most  of  us  can  manage 
to  hobble  along,  few  of  our  countrymen  are 
really  fine  skaters. 

This  chapter  is  not  intended  as  a  complete 
hand-book  of  athletics.  Otherwise  I  might 
write  learnedly  of  the  technical  differences 
between  the  two  styles  of  skating  in  vogue  in 
Switzerland — the  restrained,  severe  English  and 
the  more  flexible  Continental  styles — which  are 
now  disputing  pride  of  place.  Then  there  are 
the  games,  such  as  hockey  and  bandy,  in  which 
proficient  skaters  delight  to  show  their  skill. 

Wherever  there  is  a  hotel  or  village  of  any  con- 
sequence there  is  a  rink.  Here,  on  the  payment 
of  a  few  francs  for  the  week  or  month,  you  may 
take  your  place  among  the  crowd  of  novices, 
experts,  and  "  half-and-halfs,"  whose  skates  go 
whisthng  over  the  ice.     Day  after  day  you  will 

293 


Switzerland 

see  the  same  familiar  figures.  Some  are  labori- 
ously acquiring  their  edges.  Others,  having  got 
them,  after  weeks  of  patient  plodding,  are  swirl- 
ing round  in  triumphant  pride,  perfecting  their 
first  real  figures. 

Your  true  skater  is  born.  It  is  true  that  he 
must  be  made  as  well,  and  the  course  of  training 
is  long  and  arduous.  But  some  there  are  with- 
out either  the  nerve  or  the  strength  of  ankle  to 
acquire  the  smooth  and  swaying  grace  and 
dexterity  of  twist  that  distinguish  the  really 
first-class  skater.  These  form  the  drifters  of  the 
rinks  who  crowd  round  their  more  skilful  friends 
and  provide  that  chorus  of  admiration  so  neces- 
sary as  a  background  for  deeds  of  daring. 

In  the  whole  world  of  winter  sport  there  is 

nothing  more  delightful  from  the  spectacular 

point  of  view  than  a  good  rink  on  a  sunny  day, 

hedged  in  by  mountains  whose  sharp  outlines, 

rounded   and  softened  by  dazzling  billows   of 

snow,  are  silhouetted  against  a  sapphire  sky.    A 

thousand  rainbow  colours  flash  from  the  crystals 

of  the  snow.     The  air  is  clear  and  lucent,  with  a 

tang  that  sends  the  red  blood  coursing  through 

the  veins.     In  this  little  corner  of  the  world  you 

drink  the  wine  of  life  with  youth  and  laughter 

bubbling  at  the  brim.      Old  age  grows  young 

again  ;    sickness  glows  into  health.     It  is  the 

carnival  of  healthy  life — touched  with  the  powder 

puff.     For  an  orchestra  plays  sinuous  Viennese 

294 


•     •  •  .  ••    •    '    • 


.  "  .  t    .  ,■ 


-J 


o 


Winter  Sports 

waltzes  to  which  the  skaters  ghde  and  sway  with 
a  display  of  pretty  ankles  above  glittering  blades. 
Or,  if  you  find  the  dance  and  music  sophisticated, 
a  flight  of  siskins  racing  in  their  migration 
through  the  valley  will  probably  come  to  rest 
on  the  branches  of  the  pine-trees,  and,  pouring 
out  their  little  souls  in  the  sunshine,  will  sing  you 
a  chorus  of  silvery  notes  that  mingles  with  the 
ringing  of  the  skates.  For  a  brief  hour  spring 
and  summer  have  joined  hands  with  winter ; 
but  soon  the  sun  will  sink  behind  the  mountains, 
a  bitter  wind  will  whistle  up  the  valley,  and  you 
will  be  driven  indoors  to  seek  the  gaiety  and 
comfort  of  the  hotel. 

Skating  has  a  powerful  rival  in  the  recently 
perfected  sport  of  ski-ing,  that  bids  fair  to  oust 
it  from  its  premier  place.  The  appeal  of  the  ski 
is  much  wider  than  that  of  the  skate.  Everyone 
who  has  tried  it  and,  surviving  the  accidents  of 
his  noviciate,  has  become  even  moderately  pro- 
ficient, falls  a  victim  to  its  inexhaustible  charms 
and  possibilities. 

The  ski  has  opened  up  a  new  world  of  moun- 
taineering to  the  adventurous  spirit.  The  upper 
slopes  in  winter  were  once  impossible  to  achieve, 
but  now  passes,  peaks  and  valleys  over  ten 
thousand  feet  in  height  are  constantly  crossed 
by  the  dauntless  ski-runner,  while  even  for 
those  who  are  by  no  means  past  masters  in  the 
art,  the  lower  passes  provide  exhilarating  runs, 

295 


Switzerland 

neither  very  hazardous  nor  difficult.  But  let 
me  sound  a  note  of  warning  to  the  novice. 
Though  ski-ing  is  no  more  dangerous  than  other 
sports,  broken  ankles  await  the  foolhardy  and 
the  ill-prepared.  Look  well  to  your  outfit. 
Avoid  rough  woollen  outer  garments  as  you 
would  the  smoke-room  bore ;  see  that  your 
skis  are  thoroughly  sound,  and  consult  a  book 
or  an  expert  runner  as  regards  foot-binding. 

And,  secondly,  remember  that  many  of  the 
German  visitors  whose  daring  you  admire  prac- 
tise ski-ing  for  many  months  in  the  year.  If, 
like  most  British  visitors,  you  can  only  give  a 
few  weeks  to  the  sport,  their  feats  are  not  for 
you.  Do  not  attempt  running  on  the  upper 
slopes  unless  there  are  some  experts  in  your 
party,  or  else  take  a  guide.  Much  time  and 
trouble  would  be  saved  if  the  inexperienced  in- 
mates of  the  hotels  would  join  together,  and  for 
a  week  at  least  engage  a  guide  instructor. 

And  now,  having  loaded  you  with  good  advice, 
I  invite  you  to  join  our  party  assembling  at 
Wolfgang  for  the  run  over  Parsen. 

Here  the  Davos  train  empties  its  load  of  ski- 
pilgrims,  a  jolly  band,  eager,  high-spirited,  all 
bent  on  reaching  the  Davos  Ski  Hutte  in  time 
for  the  first  brew  of  broth  with  its  accompanying 
plates  of  sausage  and  sauerkraut. 

We  set  out,  a  long  thin  blue  serge  line  winding 
our  way  by  judicious  zigzags  up  the  great  spin. 

296 


Winter  Sports 

I  On  we  go  and  ever  on,  up  and  up  across  fields  of 
snow,  over  the  mountain  shoulder.  At  last  we 
reach  the  hut. 

Some  have  been  before  us,  have  fed  and  gone. 
Others  come  straggling  in  by  twos  and  threes, 
after  three,  four  or  five  hours  of  arduous  climb- 
ing. Some  of  the  novices  are  almost  too  ex- 
hausted to  try  the  descent ;  the  more  seasoned 
are  bubbling  over  with  energy  and  life.  There  are 
tall,  strong  German  girls,  rucksack  on  back,  with 
fair  faces  aglow  and  shapely  limbs  cased  in  smart 
knickerbockers  of  blue  serge.  Their  English 
sisters,  with  modesty  bred  of  inexperience,  wear 
skirts  and  woollen  jerseys.  The  rough  wool,  to 
which  the  snow  adheres,  and  the  hampering  folds 
of  tweed  or  serge  will  come  in  a  little  later  for 
much  bad  language,  expressed  or  inarticulate. 
Next  time  they  will  be  replaced  by  a  more 
serviceable  garb,  and  their  wearers  will  have 
learnt  how  to  tie  skins  to  their  skis  to  facilitate 
the  upward  climb. 

The  compact  body  of  climbers  has  become  a 
scattered  host.  Some,  eager  to  gild  their  laurels, 
set  off  for  a  farther  climb.  They  branch  off  to 
the  left  over  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain.  In 
a  couple  of  hours  they  will  stand  on  the  summit 
of  the  Furka,  looking  down  on  an  expanse  of 
lesser  peaks,  a  great  white  sea  of  frozen  billows 
stretching  into  iUimitable  space.  The  rest  of  us, 
less  ambitious,  push  on  for  another  hour  to  the 

297 


Switzerland 

head  of  the  pass,  where  the  view,  if  not  so  subUme, 
is  yet  one  of  entrancing  beauty.  For  a  time  we 
rest,  crouching  together  behind  the  cairn,  for  the 
wind  is  icy  cold  in  these  sohtudes  even  though 
the  sun  is  blazing  overhead.  We  fling  stones 
to  swell  the  rude  little  landmark  in  the  centre 
of  the  pass.  Then  when  the  sun  begins  to  sink 
and  the  first  tints  of  pearly  blue  steal  over  the 
lower  valleys  announcing  the  approach  of  winter 
twilight,  the  word  is  given  to  start. 

It  is  dangerous  running  for  the  first  mile  and 
we  have  to  proceed  with  care,  for  the  wind  has 
swept  away  the  snow  in  gusts,  leaving  great 
projecting  points  of  bare  and  jagged  rock.  To 
break  your  ski  at  this  stage  is  to  spoil  the  joy  of 
the  whole  descent. 

At  last  we  are  out  of  it,  on  to  the  smooth  fields 
of  virgin  snow.  The  slope  is  long  and  gradual. 
Faster  and  faster  we  go,  gathering  speed  with 
every  yard  ;  the  air  whistles  past  your  ears  ;  the 
snow  flies  up  into  your  nostrils  ;  inside  you  the 
blood  is  singing — faster  and  faster  ! 

The  first  run  is  achieved  with  credit,  but  we 
have  still  many  a  difficult  gully  to  cross  and 
many  a  tortuous  bit  of  course  to  steer.  There 
are  ignominious  falls  when  suddenly  you  find 
yourself  half  buried  in  the  snow.  But  up  you 
get  and  shake  yourself — it  is  all  so  breathlessly 
exciting  you  hardly  notice  the  discomfort — and 
in  an  hour's  time  you  glide  gracefully  into  the 

2g8 


Winter  Sports 

valley  just  as  the  Alpine  night  is  falling.  At 
:  Kublis  we  all  forgather,  and  the  train  takes  us 
back  to  Klosters  over  the  last  stage  of  our 
journey.  We  have  negotiated  one  of  the  most 
famous  runs  in  Switzerland,  known  alike  for  its 
length  and  safety.  We  have  met  with  no  acci- 
dents worth  speaking  of.  We  are  soaked  to  the 
skin.  There  are  but  fifteen  minutes  to  dress. 
We  thank  the  gods  for  the  good  dinner  that  is 
coming ;  and  may  the  souls  of  the  Telemark 
peasants,  who  first  invented  skis,  find  rest.  And 
may  we  all  meet  them  ski-ing  in  the  Elysian  fields ! 
Running  the  ski  close  in  popular  favour  is  the 
bobsleigh.  The  humble  toboggan  was  its  parent. 
But  the  toboggan  of  the  peasant  would  hardly 
I  recognise  its  sophisticated  and  highly  complex 
offspring.  The  "  skeleton  "  is  built  on  the  same 
lines  and  adapted  especially  for  speed  on  the 
artificially  formed  ice-runs.  In  bobbing  is  found 
the  concentrated  excitement  of  all  the  winter 
sports  both  in  regard  to  time  and  speed.  For 
whereas  in  skating  or  ski-ing  each  has  only 
himself  to  consider,  here  the  responsibility  is 
common  to  half-a-dozen  people.  You  may  feel 
quite  confident  of  your  own  skill,  but  you  can 
never  entirely  trust  your  neighbour's.  Through 
stupidity  or  accident  he  may  upset  you  at  a 
critical  point ;  or,  more  humiliating  still,  it 
may  be  through  you  that  misfortune  overtakes 

your  party. 

299 


Switzerland 

But  in  Switzerland  we  are  greatly  daring,  and 
this  element  of  uncertainty  adds  a  charm  to  an 
already  sufficiently  exciting  pastime.  Bobbing 
numbers  its  devotees  by  the  thousand.  It  is 
indeed  a  beautiful  sight  to  see  an  evenly- 
balanced  crew,  working  in  perfect  unison,  grace- 
fully negotiate  a  corner,  or  glide  over  a  difficult 
patch  of  ground.  But  more  than  any  other 
sport  it  requires  sure  judgment,  tense  muscles, 
a  steady  hand  and  eye  in  the  steersman  of  this 
tiny  craft  and  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
course  on  the  part  of  the  brakesman,  before  5^ou 
can  hope  to  land  your  crew  triumphantly  at  the 
winning  post  after  a  four-mile  race  even  a  few 
seconds  ahead  of  your  rivals. 

And  then  pure,  gambling,  speculating  chance 
enters  so  largely  into  this  exciting  sport.  A 
despicable  woodcutter's  sleigh  encountered  half 
way  may  upset  all  your  calculations — and  in- 
cidentally you  at  the  same  time  !  A  novice 
shooting  across  your  track  may  bring  catastrophe 
to  both.  A  badly  turned  corner  may  suddenly 
slow  you  down  when  going  full  speed  ahead. 
You  may  land  on  your  head  or  your  heels,  or  be 
suddenly  buried  in  a  drift  of  snow.  But  no  one 
can  resist  the  fascinations  of  the  bobsleigh,  and 
seventeen  and  seventy  alike  love  to  crowd  into 
a  glorious  six  minutes'  run  enough  thrills  and 
sensations  to  last  a  lifetime. 

The  skeleton  on  an  ice-run  is  rather  different, 

300 


a 
E 


(0 


Winter  Sports 

for  here  you  work  single-handed  and  each  takes 
his  own  responsibihty.  Consequently  we  hear 
less  of  stupidity  and  carelessness.  Our  neigh- 
;  hours'  characters — and  our  own — are  less  univer- 
sally blackened. 

These  are  the  three  chief  sports  of  the  winter 
tourist  centres.  There  are  other  and  lesser  ones ; 
there  is  curling,  the  "roarin"'  game  at  which 
Scotsmen  love  to  congregate.  There  are  hockey 
and  bandy  for  proficient  skaters.  And  last  of 
all  comes,  "  tailing,"  beloved  of  the  middle-aged 
and  comfortable.  As  a  sport  this  ranks  lowest, 
for  it  depends  entirely  on  the  parts  and  merits 
of  your  horse.  The  jolly  tourist  who  "  tails  " 
ni  behind  his  animal  has  nothing  else  to  do  but 
follow  where  equine  sagacity  leads  him. 

But  still  in  the  midst  of  all  these  pastimes 
some  days  remain  a  blank.  For  sometimes  the 
snow  is  too  new  for  ski-ing,  sometimes  the  rinks 
are  too  soft  for  skating.  Then  you  are  thrown 
back  on  the  scenery  and  the  distractions  of  the 
II  hotel.  What  is  wanted  is  some  public  bene- 
i  factor  to  invent  a  new  sport  that  shall  be  entirely 
independent  of  climatic  conditions.  Then  per- 
haps Messrs  Cook  will  raise  a  monument  to  his 
memory,  and  tourists  in  many  tongues  will  call 
him  blessed. 


301 


w 


INDEX 


INDEX 


A.AR,  river,  222,  238 

Aidelboden,  233 

i'Aft'ry,  Comte,  152 

-M.,  157 

i'Albergeuse,  Luce,  79 

A.lbula,  281 

Aletsch  glacier,  95 

Altdorf,  188 

A.lzellen,  198 

Amadeus  VI.,  Count,  86 

I'Anniviers,  Val,  97 

Appenzell,  174,  267 

Arenenberg,  266 

i'Armeis,  Jeanne,  70 

Aiustria,  Duke  Leopold  of,  136 

A.uvernier,  35 

•Bachman,  Baron  de,  152 

Baden,  1 12-126 

Bale,  174,  260 

Barry  (St  Bernard  dog),  loo,  loi 

Bassompierre,  Marshal  de,  149 

Baumgartner,  Catherine,  69 

Bears,  12 

Beatenberg,  St,  231 

Beatus,  St,  231 

Beckenried,  200 

Bellay,  Edouard  of,  86 

Berchtold  of  Zahringen,  2 

Bernard,  St,  loi 

—  dogs  of  St,  100-105 

—  Pass  of  St,  lOl  et  seq. 
Berne,  i  et  seq.,  151 
Beromiinster,  Abbey  of,  264 
Berthier,  Marshal,  27 
Besler,  189 

Bobsleigh,  299 

Bodensee,  267 

Bonille,  Marquis  de,  150 

Bonivard,  Fran9ois,  63  et  seq. 

Bonstetten,  9 

Bovy,  Daniel,  75 

Bracciolini,  Poggio,  118  et  seq. 

Bras-de-fer,  Ulric,  75 

Brieg,  85,  93 

Brienz,  Lake  of,  236 

U 


Brugg,  264 
Brunnen,  159,  186 
Buochs,  172 
Burgenstock,  171 
Burgi,  164 

Calvin,  270,  272 

Cartigny,  manor  of,  65,  67 

Cellini,  Benvenuto,  242 

Cent  Suisses,  148,  151,  152 

Chalamala,  Girard,  76-78 

Charles  VIIL,  148 

Charles  X.,  155 

Charles  the  Bold,  196 

Chillon,  castle  of,  61-72 

—  Prisoner       of     {^see      Bonivard 

Fran9ois) 
Cloudesly,  William,  194 
Constance,  Conrad,  Bishop  of,  211 
Coire,  284 

Coryate,  Thomas,  125 
Courtavonne,  Catherine  de,  70,  71, 

72 

Davel,  Major,  47 
Davos,  277,  287 
Drachenried,  182 
Durler,  Captain  de,  151 

Eberhard,  211 

Echallens,  49 

Eiger,  221 

Einsiedeln,  201,  204-219 

Engadine,  282,  288 

Elizabeth,  Empress,  264 

Elm,  254 

Etzel,  Mount,  209 

Farel,  26,  45 
Ferdinand  IL,  159 
Fluelen,  18S 
Francis  L,  149 
Frederick  II.,  Emperor,  197 
French,  retreat  of,  army,  31 
Freudenberger,  Uriel,  193 
Fribourg,  177 


305 


Inde 


X 


Gemmi  Pass,  233 
Geneva,  66  et  seq.,  127,  269 

—  Lake  of,  50 
Gersau,  184  et  seq. 
Gessler,  190,  192,  198 
Gessner,  Conrad,  169 
Giessbach  falls,  236 
Glarnisch,  245 

Glarus  (canton)  241  et  seq, 

—  (town)  247 
Glion,  60 
Gottlieben,  266 
Grandson,  24 
Gregory  XVI.,  156 
Grimsel  Pass,  234 
Grindelwald,  226,  227 
Grisons,  280 
Grossthal,  241 
Gruyere,  73-82 

—  Count  Antoine  of,  76 

—  Count  Michel  of,  80 

—  Count  Rodolphe  of,  76 
Gruyerius,  74 

Hapsburg,  castle  of,  264 
Haslithal,  Count  of,  217,  239 
Hausstock,  255 
Heidenloch,  252 
Helvetic  confederation,  181 
d'Herens,  Val,  98 
Hofbriicke,  140 
Hoheweg,  221 
Hohle  Gasse,  192 
Hungary,  Queen  of,  264 
Hlittenort,  181 

Imboden,  Joseph  of  St  Nicholas, 

108 
Interlaken,  221 

Jenatsch,  283 
Jungfrau,  221  et  seq. 

Kappel,  185 
Kappelbriicke,  141 
Kehrsiten,  iSi 
Kiburg,  Count  of,  4 

—  castle  of,  266 
Klausen  Pass,  251 
Kleinthal,  241,  252 
Klonthal,  241,  249 
Klosterli,  165 
Kussnach,   187 


Laharpe,  48 

Lake  dwellings,  35-39 

Lallenkonig,  260 

Landenberg,  197 

Latour,  General  de,  157 

Laufen,  battle  of,  5 

Lausanne,  51 

Lauterbrunnen,  225 

Leissigen,  230 

Lenzburg  castle,  264 

Leopold  of  Austria,  201 

Leuk,  85 

Leukerbad,  235 

Liegnitz,  Duke  Frederick  of,  80 

Lontsch  river,  247 

Louis  XL,  148 

Louis  XHL,  149 

Louis  XVHL,  152,  153 

Lucerne,  127-145,  183 

—  Lion  of,   146  et  seq. 

Lutschine,  225 

Maggiore,  Lago,  183 
Maillardoz,  Lt.-Col.  de,  151 
Marjelen  See,  94  et  seq. 
Majoria,  castle  of,  91 
Martigny,  battle  of,  84 
Martinsloch,  255 
Matterhorn,  84 
Meglingen,  142 
St  Meinrad,  207 
Meiringen,  238 
Milan,  Duke  of,  148 
Mollis,  247 
Monch,  221 
Monte  Rosa,  84 
Montreux,  59 
Moral,  25 

Morgarten,  battle  of,  201 
Myten  Stein,  200 

Nafels,  246 

Napoleon,  89,  90,  152,  1 53 
Netstall,  247 
Neuchatel,  20,  256 
Nidwalden,  174 

Oberland,  Bernese,  220-240 
Obwalden,  174 

Pestai.OZZI,  Heinrich,  182 
Pius  IX.,  Heinrich,  156 
Pilate,  Pontius,  167 


306 


Index 


'ilatus,  Mount,  i66  et  seq. 
'fyffer  Ludwig,  139 

Uron,  85-S7 

leding,  155 

leichenau,  monastery  of,  209 

Iheinfelden,  259 

Lhodanic     Republic    {see    Valais) 

liedmatten,  de,  159 

Ugi,  164-166 

lolls  Regiment,  152 

lomfahrt,  138 

vudegg,  Rudolf  von,  214 

iugen,  224 

lutli,  187,  200 

lACHSELN,   179 

>arnen,  197 

iavoy,  Count  of,  86,  87 

ichaflfhausen,  267 

ichauenbourg,  General,  181 

Icheidbach,  251 

icheidegg,  Little,  226 

Schinner,  Matthew,  92 

ichomberg.  Marshal,  147 

Ichwanden,  Johannes,  Baron  von, 

213 
Schwyz,  181,  212  et  seq. 
>empach,  battle  of,  172-173 
;ierre,  85,  91 
)igmund.  Emperor,  185 
^igrist,  159 
jimplon,  83,  89,  258 
iion,  85,  91 
jixtus  IV.,  156 
ski-ing,  278,  295 
ioleure,  177 
5onderbund,  28 
?piez,  230 
^preuerbriicke,  141 
itachelberg,  250 
italder,  Philip,  182 
3tans,  171 

—  convention  of,  177 
5tanserhorn,  171 
^tansstad,  172 
Stauffacher,  190,  198 

—  Werner,  214 
5teiner,  198 


Stockalper  Gaspard,  93 
Supersaxo,  George,  92 

—  Walther,  87 
Sursee,  264 

Swiss  Guards,  146  et  seq. 
Symonds  J.  A.,  278 

Tellsplatte, 192 
Tell,  William,  188  et  seq. 
Thun,  4,  229 

—  Lake  of,  228 
Toggenburg,  Graf  von,  217 
Tourbillon,  castle  of,  91 
Tschingelhorn,  254 

Unspunnen,  224 
Unterwalden,  174 
Uri,  181,  188 

Valais,  83-99 
Valeria,  castle  of,  91 
Vaud,  42 
Vevey,  57 

Vignerons,  fete  des,  57 
Villeneuve,  60 
Visp,  85,  93 
Vufflens,  55 

Wala,  Count,  62 
Wallenstadt,  Lake,  241 
Weggis,  184 
Weissenberg,  253 
Wengern  Aip,  226 
Wetterhorn,  227 
"White  Book,"  190 
Wiggis,  247 
Winkelried,  Arnold  von,  172 

Eric    173 

Wisling,  Dorothea,  179 
Wunnenberg,  Rudolf  von,  217 
Wyl,  175 
Wyrich,  von,  182 

YVERDON, 43 

ZURBRIGGEN,   III 
Zurich,  113,  114.  261 
Zwingli,  Ulrich,  248 


307 


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